Out of the Window
by xX-Misty
Summary: Post S3 Ep 8 fic, so spoilers for finale. Alex isn't ready to go, but Nelson's locking up and the iPhone guy isn't enjoying his new post. Keats is back and there's a new team in CID. Epilogue up and story now complete!
1. Chapter 1: Out of the Window

"What's your name, son?"

The irate man in front of him huffed so forcefully he almost blew steam from his nostrils.

"I think that's something you should be telling _me_," he flapped, "why are you in _my_ office? And what have you done to the place?" he paused. "I thought _60 Minute Makeover_ was axed years ago!"

"What's your name?" Gene repeated calmly.

The man fumbled for his iPhone one last time before saying,

"Shoebury. I'm DCI Simon Shoebury."

For a moment Gene cringed. Great. Not only was his new DI going to have to deal with a demotion in his confused state of mind but he sounded like he was about to supply Gene with some excellent new footwear.

"Sit down," Gene told him. Simon seemed reluctant to move in any way, least of all toward the chair. With a sigh, Gene fished around for a second glass, slid it across the desk to his new DI and filled it with something strong and alcoholic. His new charge did not seem impressed.

"Drinking on the _job?" _he exploded, "What kind of set up is this?" he checked the corners of the room. "Where are the cameras?"

"There are three things you need to know about me," Gene began, "Number one, my name is Gene Hunt. Number two, I am your DCI and you are my new DI, so number three, when I give you a glass - you drink. Right?"

Simon studied the glass of liquid with caution.

"What have you put in here?" he asked.

"I haven't filled it with my _own_ amber nectar if that's what you're thinking!" Gene began to lose his patience.

Simon pushed the glass back towards him.

"I'm teetotal," he said.

"We don't have any teabags," said Gene. He could feel a headache coming on. It was far from the first time he'd been through this but the further in the future his DIs came from, the weedier they were. Not only that but they were hardly going to sound like a tough crime fighting duo. Tyler and Hunt sounded like a strong team. Drake and Hunt - now that sounded powerful. But Hunt and _Shoebury? _They sounded like a team of foot-health inspectors.

He gave an involuntary sigh. The arrival of an iPhone-obsessed Simon had momentarily distracted him from the pain in his chest. The pain had come from a farewell he had never wanted to experience. He had no choice - once Alex found out the truth about herself and this world she had no choice but to move on. Those were the rules. One in, one out. Alex had to go and a new DI would begin his or her own journey.

He could feel his chest tighten further as he thought about how his whole world had fallen apart in the space of a day or so. He had never meant to keep anyone there for so long. He had just forgotten. He'd forgotten why they were there - why _he_ was there. And aside from Alex, no one else had remembered either.

The main difference, he thought as he sipped his whiskey, oblivious to Simon's ranting, was that when you died right away you had no memory of the place from which you came. Ray, Chris, Shaz and Annie had come to him from their death and never knew anything was wrong. Sam and Alex, on the other hand… well, their lives were still hanging in the balance and their memories of their other lives were still dominant.

By the time Sam Tyler entered Gene's world there was no one around who knew it was not real. Gene's own memory had faded with time and the team he had around him were oblivious. There was something about Tyler that made Gene feel uncomfortable. Something in the things he said that brought a memory to the edge of Gene's mind but one that would never quite come forth.

After Sam made the decision to return to Gene's world things were different. Although Gene never knew what happened when Sam disappeared in the tunnel and returned by way of a leap of faith he could see a real difference in Sam. In the weeks and months that followed, Tyler grasped 70s life with both hands. He stopped hearing strange things and behaving in a bizarre way. He slowly forgot about life outside of the world he'd joined.

For several years things were perfect. Nothing seemed amiss. Then one day Sam began to feel his mortality. Things began to creep back; things he'd long forgotten. He started to feel threatened by tall buildings, getting a sense of vertigo and a rush like falling every so often. He brushed them off at first as being signs of overtiredness or stress, but soon things started to step up. He would catch a glimpse of stars where there should be a street or a building. He started to feel like the world was falling away beneath his feet.

It didn't take him long to realise his time was up. He'd started to feel invincible in Gene's world. He had forgotten his time there would be finite and taken it for granted that he could go on forever. His behaviour started to become erratic as he attempted to deal with the realisation that he was about to expire. The strain began to show in his relationship with Annie as he found he couldn't tell her what he was going through for fear of sounding like the 'crazy' man he used to be, not realising for one moment that Annie had started to see stars and feel echoes of her own mortality too.

In desperation he turned to Gene. He needed to get out. He didn't know what would happen to him when his time ran out and imagined how hurt Annie would be if he simply vanished one day. He implored Gene to take him seriously. Asking Gene to help him fake his own death wasn't a decision he took lightly and it wasn't something Gene had been expecting. He'd seen his DI's behaviour start to change over a few months and knew something was going badly wrong for him but he had no idea how severe the state of Sam's desperation had become.

As he listened to his friend talking, those memories that had always been on the edge of Gene's consciousness began to reveal themselves. The strength of the emotion and the pain that came with them were more than Gene could bear. Before he could acknowledge their true meaning he found himself agreeing to help Sam to escape this world. He felt a pain in his chest from the thought of losing a friend but he had to admit that he knew Sam had to move on.

One car in the water, one jacket planted as evidence and one missing body.

That was all it took. Gene knew that there would be an investigation, but Sam's body would never be found.

"_Oi!" _Simon thumped his fist on the desk, "are you even listening to me?"

Gene realised he'd been quiet for some time. He also didn't much care.

"Not particularly, no," he said.

"If you don't give me some answers right now I'm going to charge you with obstructing the law!" Simon sneered.

"I would very much like to see you try," Gene rubbed his temples and slumped into his chair," I've never seen a shoe shop attendant make an arrest before."

He fell back into deep thought as he watched Simon scrambling around in his pocket for what was presumably another iPhone, iPod or iSomething-or-other.

He remembered that last day, the last time he'd seen Sam. As he led him to the doors of the Railway Arms there was a strange energy all around. Gene's memory was still cloudy, but he knew that Sam had to pass through those doors, and after that he would never see his friend again.

"Pint, Gene?" Sam asked.

Gene hung back. This was one time the doors of the Railway Arms did not invite him.

"I'll pass for now," he said sheepishly.

Sam frowned.

"I've never seen you refuse a free drink," he commented.

Gene gave a short nod.

"You can owe me," he said.

He watched Sam nod back, then turn to the pub he'd spent so many hours visiting over the last few years. It had never glowed so brightly before.

Weeks followed where life started to hang in the balance. An investigation started which made Gene nervous, but found nothing. He choked on his words as he offered his sympathies to Annie and watched the rest of his team in mourning. None of them knew the truth. None of them _could_ know. None of them remembered.

Sam's recall and demise had started off a chain reaction and there were some instances of echoes, voices and stars among his team. Gene could feel the mortality of his universe. He could see Ray and Chris beginning to notice and Annie becoming a shadow of the woman she once was. When the orders came for Gene to transfer to Fenchurch it felt for sure that his world was being given another chance. Perhaps its time, like Sam's, was finite but it still had a job to do and needed Gene at the helm.

When Ray and Chris agreed to transfer with Gene it seemed that his team would remain intact. The one exception was Annie, the grieving widow whose personality had changed so much Gene hardly recognised her.

Cut up with guilt, unable to tell her that the man she loved had gone to a better place, he agreed to meet her for one last drink before the move. The air was strange that night ad he walked toward the Railway Arms. He could hear echoes of Sam's voice in the air. As he reached the pub he could see that faint glow again, and as Annie walked towards him things began to make sense. He could feel a lump rising in his throat. Her time was also coming to an end. Without Sam she had nothing in this world to stick around for.

He looked at Annie seriously. He couldn't bring himself to explain it to her.

"Look, you, err…. You go in and get a round in. I just need to get something out of the car."

Annie frowned.

"You'll do anything to avoid buying a round, won't you?" she said.

"Call it a goodbye present," Gene told her.

Annie gave the slightest of smiles.

"Alright, fine, she said, "I'll get them in. Don't be long."

Gene watched as she walked up to the pub and opened the door, then disappeared within.

"I might be a while yet," he said to himself.

As he watched, a strange glow spread around the building. It felt warm and tempting, but it wasn't calling Gene. Not yet. He still had work to do. Another city needed him. Another DI needed him. One day he would get a round in, but not yet.

"DI?" Simon had found his new identity somewhere about his person, "_DI?"_

"DI Shoebury," Gene sighed, "I think you would feel much better if you sat down, relaxed and had a drink. It's almost knocking off time. That means the call of the bottle to us, pal."

"How about a call to my superintendent?" Simon countered.

Gene let Simon ramble, becoming more and more incoherent as he talked himself round in circles. Gene was tired. He thought he was ready for another go around but he wasn't, he truly wasn't. His mind turned to Alex. It didn't feel like that long ago she arrived in his world. By the time they met he had forgotten everything once again, although her strange comments brought back those feelings of anxiety just as Sam's had done on those early days.

He'd kept the nature of her existence to the back of his mind and exploded with anger when she tried to tell him the truth. He didn't think she was a liar. He knew she wasn't. He didn't think that for one moment. But the layers of denial had built up for so long that he had to lock out the truth. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

The moment Alex found his body, the moment she found the truth, everything flooded back. The impact of the moment was more intense than he could have imagined. He crumbled, his _world_ crumbled. The only thing that remained constant was Alex.

That's what made it all the more painful to say goodbye.

"…_..but if you'll just find out which of those jokers took my iPhone and get it back to me I'll forget this whole incident ever happened," _Simon bargained, "I'll go home, you put my office back to how it was and we'll say no more about it. I won't sue whatever set-up show you're from, and I won't sue the decorators either."

"Listen, you need to get one thing into your _iBrain_, Shoe-boy," Gene began to get angry, "while you are in _my_ team you need to remember whose office this is. Mine. Not yours. You'll be dreaming on that for a very long time." He nodded toward the door. "Your desk is out there. My last DI left in…" his voice broke a little, "something of a hurry, so you'll have to clear it out yourself. Feel free to keep the stationery, I sincerely hope you won't want to keep the lipstick and the spare pair of tights."

"_What the…?" _Simon could hardly get his words out, "how _dare _you? Lipstick and tights?"

"Sorry," came a voice from the doorway, "you won't be able to keep those anyway. I'll probably need them at some point."

For a moment Gene's heart stopped dead in his chest. He almost couldn't bear to look past Simon. He didn't want it to not be true. His new DI had no such issue.

"And who are you?" he demanded, "were you the one who installed this _migraine-inducing_ ceiling? Are you here to put it back the way it was?"

"No," Alex stepped slowly through the doorway, "I'm here to talk to the Guv." she paused and gave a charming smile. "If that's alright with you."

Simon's anger boiled over.

"Fine," he spat, "have him. Have my bloody office! Have my sanity on a plate! But when I get in tomorrow this place had better be back to normal or I'll… I'll…"

"Call the police?" smiled Alex.

Simon scowled, then kicked the desk in fury.

"_Yeeooooowwwwww!" _he howled, hopping around and clutching at least two - if not three - broken toes. "Owwww! Owwww! Owwww! Someone get me to hospital!"

"Nine, nine, nine," said Gene, "it's an easy number to remember. Maybe you can put that in your ePhone."

"_iPhone!" _screamed Simon and he hobbled out of the room, leaving Gene with no excuse not to look at the woman he'd sent on her way less than an hour ago.

"Drake," he stood up slowly, "I just sent you on a journey. It was supposed to be a one way ticket."

Alex stepped toward him, swallowing visibly.

"My ticket didn't take me where I wanted to go," she said.

"You've passed, Bolly," said Gene, "you can't go home."

Alex shook her head.

"No, you're wrong," she whispered, "I _am_ home."

Gene hesitated. He'd never seen anyone leave The Railway Arms before.

"How did you leave?" his voice began to break up as he spoke, "I don't…. I don't understand. There's no exit."

"Then maybe that should tell you something," Alex said firmly, "that I wasn't ready." She let her lips flicker into a tiny smile. "That I have a job to do."

"Yes, getting me in a drink," said Gene.

Alex smiled fully now.

"Not yet," she said.

Gene raised an eyebrow.

"Then when?"

Alex glanced over her shoulder at the hobbling newcomer, still mouthing off about missing gadgets and restoring his usual décor.

"Oh, I'd say around the time this gentleman grows to love the… migraine-inducing ceiling," she said, "and goes for a pint."

"You'll be waiting a long time for that, Bols," said Gene, beginning to shuffle out from behind his desk, "he's teetotal."

Alex gave a broad grin.

"I'm sure we can fill the time somehow," she said.

As she moved forward and coerced a mildly-protesting Gene into a warm embrace she closed her eyes. Heaven could wait for some other time. This was her home. This was where she was supposed to be.

**

* * *

**

Gene and Alex slowed as they approached Luigi's. The restaurant was dark, the doors locked and bolted and the _'closed' _sign displayed like a sad goodbye.

"Damn," Gene let out his breath, "I forgot."

Alex looked forlornly at the door.

"My flat," she said quietly, "I suppose I'm homeless too."

"Perhaps you weren't supposed to stay after all?" Gene asked quietly.

Alex folded her arms.

"You're not getting off that lightly," she said, "I'll find somewhere."

Gene looked around. The coldness of the evening was beginning to bite through his gloves.

"We need to find somewhere to get a drink," he said, "obviously not the Railway Arms. Our northern booze isn't good enough for you, apparently."

Alex glanced at him and could see that he was teasing.

"There's a wine bar just down this road," she moved her head to the left.

"A _wine_ bar?" Gene spat in horror, "I've already lost my team and gained a twerp. I'm not losing my credibility in the same day!"

Alex ignored his protests and held his arm. She pulled him gently but firmly down the street. She became aware that times were merging and changing. Something in the events of the day were making a nonsense of days, months and years. With every step they draw closer to another time, '84... '85... '86... By the time they reached the wine bar they had truly become trendy.

Time slowed back down as they entered and set themselves up with a bottle. Alex hardly had time to take a sip of the warming red liquid before Gene asked her a question that made his voice crack a little.

"Why didn't you look back?" he asked.

Alex set her glass on the table.

"What?"

"When you walked into the Railway Arms," Gene continued, "you didn't look back."

Alex felt a sudden lump appear in her throat.

"Why didn't you _call_ me back?" she countered.

"I couldn't," whispered Gene.

"I was waiting for you to call me back."

"I was waiting for you to bloody turn round!"

"Why would I turn round and look at someone who's just kissed me and then sent me away for the rest of eternity?"

"Why would I call for someone who didn't even put up a fight to stay?"

"I was _trusting _you!" cried Alex, "You asked me to trust you. I did. I trusted you when you said Molly…" she found her words began to stick in her throat, "when you said Molly would be OK. I trusted you when you said I couldn't stay. I did what you told me to do."

"For the first time _ever," _said Gene, "the one time when I didn't want you to!"

Alex froze.

"You were waiting for me to stop? To look back?" she asked, "and then what? Would you have asked me to stay?"

Gene hesitated. He sipped his wine and pulled a face.

"Ugh, what's this rubbish?" he cried, "Come back Luigi, all is forgiven!"

"_Gene," _Alex said sternly.

Gene gave a sigh. He put his wine down and looked at Alex with darkness in his eyes.

"Once you know the truth, there was no going back," he said.

Alex held out her arms.

"If there's no going back then how come I'm here now?" she asked.

"I don't know, Bols," Gene shook his head, "I don't know what happens on the other side of the door." he paused. "And anyway, I wanted you to be safe."

"Safe?" frowned Alex, "from what?"

"Keats," Gene spat as the word tasted worse than his wine.

"Keats?" Alex repeated, "Keats is… is _nothing." _

"He'd have done anything to get your soul, Alex," Gene told her.

"But he didn't get it," Alex leaned forward a little, "and he never will."

"If he knows you're back then he won't stop," Gene told her, "he'll try every trick he can. He'll tempt you with fifty scarves if he thinks they'll reel you in. The Railway Arms…" he paused. "Well, let's just say that's one place he's barred from. Permanently." He took another swig from his glass and contorted his face to show his disgust. "So," he looked back at Alex, "What happened? How …how come you're here?"

Alex swallowed.

"Because I wanted to be," she whispered.

* * *

The walk from Gene's arms to the door of the Railway Arms felt like the longest of Alex's life. Every step seemed to echo through her head. Every step took eons to complete. With every footstep she waited to hear him call her. She waited for a _Bols_ or a _Bolly; _a _Drake_ or even an _Alex_. She waited for a _'Stop' _or a _'wait' _or even an '_I'll get this round in' _but by the time she reached the door and gripped the handle there was still silence in the air.

She thought about turning back. She thought about looking at him one last time, but it would hurt too much. If he'd called her… if he'd said her name… just once… she'd have turned around like a shot. But she couldn't face the thought of looking around. She didn't want to see the man who'd told her she had to go. She didn't want to face the thought of seeing him walking away or looking at her coldly, or just not being there at all. So she opened the door and walked inside.

She was surprised to find herself actually in a pub. She thought going to the pub was a metaphor for heading to heaven, or whatever else truly existed beyond Gene's world. She wasn't exactly expecting clouds and harps but she also wasn't expecting the sound of a smashing glass as Ray tried to carry too many pints in one go.

"_Sorry," _his voice sounded through the room.

Alex glanced around and saw her friends sitting not far away, with the exception of Ray who was trying to kick the shards of glass under the table. All around the bar were others, presumably coppers who had completed their time in Gene's world and moved on. They all seemed full of joy and life, happy to have their part in this place. Suddenly Alex began to feel very much alone.

"Ma'am," Chris called to her, raising his hand, "got you a drink."

Alex gave a thin smile.

"That's very thoughtful Chris," she said.

Shaz looked a little confused.

"I thought the Guv would be joining us if you were here, ma'am," she said.

Alex swallowed as she sat down.

"So did I," she whispered.

"Sure he'll be along soon, eh?" Chris tried to cheer her up.

Alex stared at the scarf in her hands. Even as she looked it was fading. One last attempt at temptation from the devil. She closed her eyes for a moment as she thought about Molly. Only now was it truly hitting her that she wouldn't see her baby again for a long time, that her little girl would grow up without her mum, just like Alex herself had done. The tears began to fall.

"Oh Ma'am," Shaz's heart broke to see her so distraught, "don't cry."

"I'm never going to see Molly again," Alex whispered.

"Molly?" asked Ray.

"My daughter," Alex whispered, "I can never go home. I can never see her again."

"I'm so, so sorry," Shaz whispered, "I don't know what to say."

"How can this be heaven," Alex's voice trembled, "if you're not with the ones you love?"

"Ones?" repeated Chris.

Alex blushed involuntarily.

"One," she corrected.

Chris and Shaz exchanged a glance and a tiny, sly smile.

"Ones," said chris.

"Ones, said Shaz.

Alex stared at her hands.

"I can't stay with him either," she whispered.

"Why not?" asked Chris.

"He told me to go," Alex said quietly.

"He wouldn't want to be without you, ma'am," said Shaz, "he was probably just waiting for you to tell him you wanted to stay."

"I tried."

"How hard?"

Alex began to reply but stopped. It was true enough, she hadn't fought very hard. She wanted to show Gene she trusted him so she did as she was told.

"I should have tried harder," she whispered.

Chris glanced toward the door.

"Nelson's locking up," he said.

Alex closed her eyes for a moment. It was loo late to do anything now.

"I know," she whispered.

She opened her eyes, preparing to drink herself into a heavenly stupor when suddenly the wall beyond them was replaced by dark sky and stars. She gasped and draw back in her chair.

"What's wrong?" frowned Ray, turning to face the direction Alex's eyes were glued upon.

"Do you see that?" she whispered.

Ray shrugged.

"I know it's not exactly modern but it's an old fashioned boozer," he said, "what did you expect? Walls have always been that colour."

"No," whispered Alex, "I mean…. don't you see them?"

Shaz made a face.

"Yeah, those stains are a bit suspicious if you ask me," she said, looking for a cloth.

Alex blinked and the stars faded away.

"No," she whispered, "stars… there were _stars…"_

Shaz gave her a concerned glance.

"Stars?" she repeated, "No… that's over…. We've made it here now."

"Maybe not," whispered Alex.

"I didn't see anything," said Chris.

"Nor me," shrugged Ray.

"Then maybe…." Alex got to her feet, "maybe that's because I'm in the wrong place."

"You can't go back," Shaz said gently.

Alex couldn't believe that. There was a way. There had to be a way. She glanced down at her shoes. Could she try clicking her heels together three times and repeating _'There's no place like home'?_

"I'm going to freshen up," she said quietly, "where's the ladies?"

"Over there by the look of it," Ray gave a huge grin, spying a table of attractive female officers at another table.

Chris looked at Alex.

"Over there," he pointed her in the right direction.

Alex gave a tiny smile.

"Thank you," she whispered, and walked slowly toward the toilets.

_What are you doing, Drake? _she admonished herself silently as she climbed on the toilet and rattled the window. She pushed and pulled until it opened with a pop and a cold breeze poured in from outside. She closed her eyes and breathed it in. Air. _Real _air. Or at least, as real as it ever got.

She felt foolish as she hoisted her legs onto the thin window ledge and looked out. The stars were bright that night. Then she realised the stars were the only thing outside. There was no world beyond The Railway Arms any more. She closed her eyes and swallowed.

"Come _on,"_ she whispered, willing the world to appear again when she opened her eyes, but still stars and nothingness greeted her.

She thought about Sam. She remembered the leap of faith he took to get back to gene's world. She was coming at this from the opposite side; going backwards, but the sentiment was the same.

"After three," she whispered, "One… _two…." _she hesitated and closed her eyes. She didn't want to watch the stars streaming past as she fell. _"Three."_

She took a leap of faith.

* * *

"I thought I would fall forever," Alex whispered.

Gene took another mouthful of foul wine.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Alex, "I…. I didn't feel like I was falling. I didn't feel like I hit the ground. I was scared, Gene. I was scared because I didn't know what would happen when I opened my eyes."

"And what happened when you did?"

Alex felt a tear pricking her eyes.

"I was _there_," she whispered, "back at Fenchurch. In the car park." She paused. "It wasn't my time."

Gene emptied his glass and took a moment to think about everything Alex had told him. Escaping from heaven out of the toilet window seemed like a pretty far-fetched notion but if heaven was a pub then he supposed it had to have an escape route for bad dates and rumbled lock-ins.

"So where do we go from here?" he asked.

That was one part Alex wasn't sure about.

"We…. carry on?" she suggested, "from where we left off."

"The team's gone, Bolly."

"But you have a brand spanking, shiny new recruit to break in."

"The shoe shop man?" Gene gave a slight laugh, "he's going to be a piece of work, that one."

"Just as well you have me to help then," Alex gave a cheeky smile and sipped her wine.

"And what about the pub?" asked Gene.

"Well," Alex looked around, "I think we've found a new local. And when the time is right…" she looked into Gene's eyes, "I'm sure Nelson will have drinks waiting for us on the bar."

Gene hesitated. He took a deep breath and leaned back. He stared at her in silence for so long that was afraid that he was going to knock her back, take her back to the Railway Arms and send her on again. Finally he glanced around.

"We're going to have to find a better boozer than this," he said, "the drink tastes like Ray Carling's boiled sock water and the wallpaper's giving me an 'eadache. But the rest of your proposal, Drakey," he poured some more wine and eyed her, "it sounds good."

For the first time since her return a smile of relief flooded across Alex's face.

"Good," she said decisively, "then everything is back as it should be."

Gene took a swig of wine that almost emptied the glass and sighed.

"Your first task," he began, "is to go and visit Shoebury in hospital. Take him a bunch of grapes or something. And tell him to stop being so wet."

Alex grinned.

"He'll come good," she said, "he's got the best Guv to show him the way."

Gene nodded.

"I'll drink to that," he said.


	2. Chapter 2: One Night Under a Coat

**Chapter 2**

"_My name is Simon Shoebury. A file server fell on my head and sent me back to 1985 where I entered a technological nightmare. Have I gone back in time? Or am I the subject of a really dumb prank. And what has happened to my iPhone? If I can only work out who took it then maybe, just maybe, I can call a taxi to find my way home…"_

_

* * *

_

It was late, so late, by the time Alex and Gene arrived back to the office.

"Where am I going to sleep tonight?" Alex put her head in her hands and slumped at her desk, "I can't believe Luigi took my flat away so fast."

"He didn't, Bols," Gene sighed. He picked up a newspaper that was laying on a nearby desk and passed it to her. She took the paper and glanced at the top.

"Nineteen eighty-_five?_" Alex cried, "but how did that happen?"

"Time's been flicking back and forth since you came back," sighed Gene, "until it settled on a new era. A time where our _friend_ has some kind of…" he ran his hand through his hair, "unfinished business to see to."

Alex bit her lip.

"Like I had with my parents?" she asked quietly.

Gene nodded.

"We went forward a bit too far, then back a bit. I s'pose it's a bit like a swingometer, except with a slightly more… metaphysical effect."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"That's a pretty big word for Gene Hunt," she said.

"Well I'll have to up my game now you're back," he said, "can't have you putting me to shame in front of shoe-shop boy." He paused for a moment and shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about your flat, Bolly."

Alex have a tired sigh. She looked at her feet where her shoes looked a little scuffed from her earlier escape.

"I've lost everything," she said, "everything materialistic, anyway. No clothes, no furniture…"

"It's just as well I didn't let 'im have those tights then."

Alex gave a tiny smile.

"I told you I'd be needing them later on," she said. She looked at Gene seriously. "Can I stay with you? Please? Just until I get something else sorted. I won't stay long and I won't get in the way."

Gene put his hands in his pockets and began to pace.

"No can do," he said.

"Oh come _on_ Gene, this isn't still about the other night is it?"

Gene rolled his eyes.

"I _mean_, I don't have one," he said, "…a home, I mean."

Alex frowned.

"What?"

"I lost it when I was hiding out in Spain," Gene explained, "landlords don't like it very much when you disappear for three months without coughing up any rent."

"So where have you been sleeping since?" Alex asked with wide eyes.

"I don't sleep," said Gene.

"Oh come on," Alex snapped crossly, "how am, I supposed to help you if you won't be honest with me?" she stood up and walked across to him. "Look at me." She placed her hands gently on the sides of his face and turned it so that he had no choice but to look her in the eye. "As far as teamwork goes we've pretty much gone all the way."

"Going all the way is the one thing we _haven't_ done…" Gene pointed out, his voice slightly distorted by the inability to move his jaw much while Alex cupped his face.

"When we've not been honest with each other things start to fall apart," Alex continued, "and I don't want that to happen again. So tell me; where have you been living?"

Gene stepped back a footstep or two.

"Few nights with Chris, few nights with Ray," he shrugged, "the Quattro made a pretty good bed for a couple of nights."

Alex looked sadly at gene.

"No Chris, no Ray," she began, "and no Quattro."

"Looks like I really _won't_ be sleeping tonight then," said Gene.

Alex sighed and picked up a notepad from her desk.

"First thing to do, find somewhere to stay," she said, beginning a list.

"Bloody hell," Gene exclaimed, "is there _anything_ you don't make lists for?"

Alex gave him a coy glance.

"_One _thing," she said, "there's one thing that's best left to the imagination."

Gene raised his eyebrows and for the first time that night began to get some spark back.

"Tell me more," he gave a sly smile.

Alex tutted.

"List first," she said, "we need to accomplish the first thing on the list before we can get to that."

Gene walked briskly to his office before Alex could see the grin spreading across his face and movement down below. He made out he'd gone to get a drink and toned his libido down in time to arrive back at Alex's desk with a couple of glasses and a bottle.

"So let's hear it," he said, "what's number two on the list?"

"Find out more about Simon Shoebury," said Alex, making more notes, "where did he come from? _When _did he come from? What happened to him?"

"Starting over with a new DI isn't easy," Gene warned her.

"There's two of us this time," Alex said brightly, "and I've been through it before. I can help him."

"You can't come straight out and tell him, Alex," Gene warned, "if you go up to him and tell him why he's here he'll never move on. Needs to work it out for himself. Like you." he took a mouthful of whiskey, "like Sam."

"He might never move on if you forget again," said Alex.

Gene rubbed his temples.

"Things slip my mind sometimes," he muttered, "too much of the good stuff." He took a sip of whiskey.

"We need to work really hard at remembering," Alex told him seriously.

Gene gave a sigh.

"There's a difference between _'remembering' _and _'dwelling on it'_," he said, "I don't want to dwell on it. No point us being here if this isn't real to you. To both of us."

Alex hesitated.

"Point taken," she said quietly.

Gene sighed deeply.

"That's why you should have gone," he told her, "it'll never be real to you now you know."

Alex glanced at him.

"We're going to find a way to carry on," she said, "I can see you're worried about this but I wasn't supposed to go yet. It wasn't my time." She went back to writing on her pad, leaving Gene to look at her curiously. He waited for several seconds before he edged a little closer and took the pad from her hands, leaving a pen trail where her last word remained incomplete.

"So what other bloody rubbish have you got on 'ere?" he asked, "One; place to stay. Two; Simon. Three; learn to remember. Four_; Keeeeeee…?"_

Alex pointed to the word with the tip of her biro.

"That would have said 'Keats'," she said, _"if _you'd let me finish."

Gene threw the pad onto Alex's desk.

"He has no place on any list," he said bitterly, "unless it was a Most Wanted list."

"I think we need to find out what's happened to him," said Alex, "where is he now?"

"Rotting, hopefully," said Gene.

"We have to find out where he is and what he's doing," Alex insisted, "look at the lengths he went to just to destroy you, Gene. He's cracked. He's…"

"I know very well what he is, Bolly," Gene took a swig of his drink to block out the memory, "the last thing I want to do is go looking for him… and listen to another forty verses of Wham..."

"Haven't you ever heard of keeping your friends close but your enemies closer?" asked Alex.

Gene scowled.

"I don't like the idea of keeping Keats within fifty yards of either of us," he said.

Alex's eyes began to sparkle. It was something Gene had rarely seen before. It was the sparkle of someone who had been set free from her baggage and allowed to enjoy a whole new life. He knew that Alex's sadness at not getting home to her daughter would never leave her and there would be many, many times that it would overwhelm her. But Alex knew she had passed away and yet was more full of life than Gene had ever seen her.

"So I guess we need to find somewhere to stay."

"It's point number one," Alex reminded him.

Gene nodded.

"I'll make some calls," he said.

He turned and walked to his office, closing the door slowly behind him. Alex felt warmth across her cheeks as she gave an involuntary blush, thinking about the possibilities that lay ahead. She knew now who Gene used to be. She also knew who Gene was now, and _that_ was the man she wanted to stay with.

Although she wasn't a whiskey drinker by nature, she took the glass Gene had left her and took a sip. The liquid stung her throat and numbed her tongue for a moment., As she flinched, she realised how real the sensation was. Whatever its nature, gene's world was every bit as real as the one she'd departed from at 9:06 exactly. She still had a life. Now she had to learn how to truly enjoy it.

* * *

Gene put down the phone after making his fifth call of the night. It seemed he'd run out of favours to call in and sleep wasn't on the cards for that night. Pacing from his office, he began,

"Sorry, Bolly, no room at the inn…"

He stopped in his tracks as he spied his DI fast asleep in her chair. A peaceful smile graced her lips and her slightly smeared make-up gave her a kind of sleepy innocence that made Gene's mouth flicker just slightly into a smile in return.

He stepped back into his office, returning with a coat over his arm which he gently placed it over her sleeping form and stepped back. It seemed he wouldn't need accommodation that night after all. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow, he considered. For now all he had to do was drink enough to fall asleep in his own chair and make a decision on what he was going to drive next. Tomorrow they could deal with the shoe shop boy and Jimbo.

"'Night, Bols," He said quietly and tiptoed away to leave her to enjoy a peaceful, dreamless sleep - the first she'd had since 2008.


	3. Chapter 3: Secrets and Grapes

**Chapter Three**

The sun shone in through the window and flickered across Alex's eyes. She stirred, rubbing her eyes as though to get rid of the sunlight and blinked a few times.

"_Wha…" _she muttered, trying to get her bearings. There she was, in her chair, in her office, a long coat draped across her to keep her warm. With a sigh she got to her feet, folded up the coat, straightened out the kinks in her neck and trudged to the door of Gene's office.

"Blimey, is that how you look when you turn up for work every morning?" asked Gene.

Alex yawned.

"What time is it?" she asked, "I'd check my watch but all I ever get is nine-o-six."

"For once, your watch is right," said Gene.

"My God, how long was I _asleep?" _Alex rubbed her forehead.

"Ten hours straight," Gene told her.

"Must have been the wine," Alex sighed. She placed Gene's coat on his desk. "Thank you… for this," she smiled, "I appreciate the thought."

"I might not be very good at slaying dragons but Gene Hunt is nothing if not chivalrous," commented Gene. He looked at Alex. "So what's first on that list thing of yours?"

"I'm adding _'washing' _and _'breakfast' _to the list," Alex told him, "and then I'm going to see Simon."

"Oh yeah?" Gene raised an eyebrow, "ask him if he's got any size eleven boots while you're there."

"You're going to have to get along with him, you know," said Alex, "sooner or later you'll run out of shoe shop jokes and have to work with the man."

"Then let's make it later rather than sooner," said Gene.

Alex stepped back towards the doorway.

"I'm off for breakfast," she said, "don't forget we need to find somewhere to stay tonight."

"My coat not good enough for you?" asked Gene.

Alex gave a cheeky smile.

"Too many lumps," she said, "You left your hip flask in the pocket."

* * *

After a rudimentary wash in the ladies' and an attempt at finding something edible in the canteen Alex made her way to hospital to find out what had become of Simon.

"He's in here," a young nurse showed Alex to the doorway of a hospital room. Alex peered in and saw him laying in bed, one foot in plaster and a soppy grin across his face.

"Why did he have to stay in?" she asked, "it was only a couple of broken toes, wasn't it?"

"Originally, yes," the nurse said sheepishly, "but he went a little…" she demonstrated 'loopy' by crossing her eyes and circling her finger around one side of her head.

"Oh," Alex said in surprise, "I see."

"He's had a sedative which knocked him out for a few hours," the nurse explained, "He woke up a little while ago but he's still a little bit…"

"Happy?" suggested Alex.

The nurse gave her a warm smile.

"He'll be fine when it wears off," she said and began to walk away.

"Thank you," said Alex. She took a deep breath, staring at the stranger in his bed. She felt a nervous twitch take over her toe, which she scuffed along the floor. She felt so many emotions take her over at once. Anticipation of talking to this man who'd found himself in a similar situation to Alex, sadness at not being able to help him, fear of saying too much. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Come on, Alex," she admonished herself, "get on with it. You haven't got all day."

Her heels clicked along the floor as she entered the room and drew closer to Shoebury. He looked up at her, struggling to focus at first. The dopey grin changed into a look of confusion.

"_You?" _he frowned, "you from the office… what are you doing here? Have you put my ceiling back yet?"

Alex sat down beside his bed and shuffled a little closer.

"Hello, Simon," she began, "I don't think we were properly introduced yesterday." She held out her hand. "My name is Alex Drake. We're going to be working together."

"Where?" frowned Simon.

"At Fenchurch East," Alex said patently.

"Oh no we're not," said Simon, "I may have three broken toes… and I may have taken many… _many_ pills, but I know this joke has gone way too far."

"Simon," Alex began patiently, "I think you might be suffering from a little bit of amnesia. I'm here to help you get your memory back. I thought if we… talked a little about your past and what happened yesterday then things might start to become a little clearer for you."

"I doubt it," Simon scratched his head.

"Well, humour me," Alex gave him a charming smile, "let's start with something easy. What year were you born?"

"Nineteen seventy eight," said Simon.

"Seventy eight," Alex repeated, adding a little more quietly, "so you'd be seven." She looked at him intently. "Let's work on your memory…. Talk a bit about your childhood. Did anything… _traumatic _happen when you were a child?"

Simon chewed on his lip thoughtfully.

"The school bully stole my shoes and told me to grow another pair," he said.

"How about when you were around six or seven?" asked Alex, "maybe eight? Was there a family tragedy? An accident of some sort? Were you very sick or hurt, maybe?"

"I was hurt when the bully stole my shoes," Simon pouted.

"How about family matters?" Alex pressed, "did you… discover anything shocking about your parents? Did they get divorced or pass away? Did they cause you a terrible trauma?"

Simon began to reply 'No' but stopped himself as a memory struck him.

"Yes," he declared, "for my birthday my parents bought me an Amiga A1000."

Alex hesitated.

"And…?"

"And I wanted an Atari 65XEP!"

Alex gave a deep sigh. This was getting her nowhere fast.

"OK, Simon," she tried, "let's talk about something more recent. Why don't you tell me what happened yesterday?"

Simon felt nauseous at the thought of the events of the day before and looked around for more pills to make life rosy again. He couldn't find any so eventually he closed his eyes and began,

"I've been trying and trying to work it out, but something somewhere doesn't make sense."

"Well, maybe I can help," Alex said quietly.

Simon shook his head.

"I doubt it," he said, "I've been going over this in my mind all night… as much of it as I was awake for anyway." For the first time, he looked Alex directly in the eye. "Look, I was at work, right? And some of the guys were having trouble getting into the system. It had been acting up all day. I went down to IT to see what was going on and they were all on a tea break so I thought I'd wait for them to get back. I sat down, dropped my iPhone on the floor, bent down to pick it up and heard this… creaking from the desk above me. Looked up in time to see the desk crack in two and a bloody great server hurtling toward me."

Alex flinched.

"Then what happened?" she whispered.

"Next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and three big guys in suits were standing round me. One of them said he'd never seen anyone get knocked out by a flying mug before. There was china all over the place. It didn't make any _sense. _So I tried to get to my office, but everything was different, and then I found some _bastard_ had stolen my iPhone!"

Alex bit her lip gently.

"Simon… what year is this?" she asked quietly.

Simon scowled.

"You're taking this amnesia thing a bit too far," he said, "I know I got a server square in the head but I know it's two thousand and ten."

Alex closed her eyes for a moment.

"Two years after my death", she murmured so quietly that Simon couldn't make out what she had said. She looked back at him. "Listen, I know things are… confusing right now and nothing is making sense to you. But you have to trust us. If you trust me and DCI Hunt we'll be able to look after you. Make sure you're OK."

"DCI Hunt?" Simon repeated, "He was that caveman who kept calling me Shoe Shop Boy." He scowled. "I don't want to be anywhere near that man."

"You feel like this now but believe me, soon you'll feel very different about the Guv. Maybe not in _quite_ the same way as I do…" she paused, "…but I've been where you are now. I… transferred from a very different place, and things here take a lot of getting used to. But stick with it, because it is worth the effort. Gene's methods… his language… his manner… you'll get used to them. You'll learn to bite back. You'll learn how to banter, you'll enjoy it, you'll love it." She paused, "you'll find yourself at home." She realised she had run out of questions and advice for now and really should get on with the rest of her list. She stood up and gave Simon one last, friendly smile. "I need to get back," she said, "I'm sure you'll be discharged soon. Take some time and I'll see you back in the office when you're ready." As she turned to leave, a bowl of something green caught her eye. "Those grapes look nice," she smiled, "where did they come from?"

Simon shrugged.

"I don't know," he said, "They were there when I woke up."

Alex gave him a friendly smile.

"Well it looks like someone is looking out for you here at least," she said. She left the room with a few of her questions answered and set off to look for somewhere to stay, for a while at least.

Simon watched her go. He wasn't sure who the strange woman was that had paid him a visit or why she was so interested but she at least seemed to be on his side. He still didn't know what was going on and he knew the second he left the hospital life would get confusing again but for the first time since he'd landed in this strange world he felt like he a friend.

A dark presence in the doorway caught his attention. Dressed in black with a long coat draping his form in fabric, a bespectacled man with dark hair entered and changed the atmosphere in a heartbeat.

"Good morning, DI Shoebury," He said pleasantly, "it's good to see you looking better." He paused long enough to scratch his calf with the opposite foot. "I hope you liked the grapes."

Shoebury frowned.

"Who are _you?" _he asked.

The man smiled.

"Just a well-wisher," he said. He gave him a small wave. "Get better soon."

With that he turned on his heels and left, almost as though he'd never been there.

Simon rubbed his forehead and gave a whimper.

"Nurse?" he cried, "_NURSE?"_

A moment later a worried nurse came skidding into the room.

"What's the matter, Mr Shoebury?" she asked patiently.

Simon looked at her weakly.

"I think it might be time for more pills," he whimpered.


	4. Chapter 4: New Faces, Same Old Gene

_So many thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed this so far. I am so happy to be writing again and finally be over a very, very bad case of writer's block. I really appreciate your thoughts on this so far and if you're enjoying it I'm really glad!_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 4**

Alex felt exhausted by the time she arrived back in the office, partly from the walk and partly from the effort of keeping the truth under wraps as she spoke to Simon. It was harder than she thought not to let anything slip. She caught sight of Gene shuffling around in his office and walked slowly to the door.

"I've spoken to Simon," she said.

Gene glanced up.

"I bet that was a fun experience," he commented, "what did he have to say for himself?"

Alex slumped into a chair.

"It wasn't very easy to find out much about him," she said, "partly because I was frightened of letting anything slip and partly…" she sighed, "partly because he was under the influence of various happy pills. He'd made a bit of a scene when he arrived at hospital, apparently."

Gene sat down.

"So what _did_ you find out?" he asked.

"Well," Alex sat up a little straighter, "he was born in nineteen seventy eight, he'd have been about seven right now."

"What happened to him?"

"In nineteen eighty five?"

"No, to get here."

Alex tried to suppress a smirk.

"Guv, in the future…. Computers are much, much bigger than you can imagine. Uh, literally when it comes to storing files. Simon was the victim of a faulty desk and a very heavy file server."

Gene raised an eyebrow.

"Not really dying in the line of duty then," he said.

"I don't think he's dead," said Alex, "he doesn't know who he is here. He just wants to get home."

Gene nodded slowly.

"So why now? Why eighty-five?"

"That, I don't know," Alex sighed, "I tried to find out if anything happened to him when he was a child but aside from not getting the computer he wanted for his birthday and a bully taunting him about his name…" she paused and frowned, "talk about history repeating itself… he wasn't very forthcoming."

"Don't forget you're a stranger, Alex," Gene reminded him, "if I had some deep, dark secret from my past I probably wouldn't want to spill it to some woman with a notebook either."

"Actually, I didn't even take my note book," Alex gave a slight smile.

Gene raised his eyebrows.

"There's hope for you yet, Drake," he said.

Alex glanced down at her hands. She went very quiet for a while causing Gene to look at her in concern. He wanted to ask if she was OK but decided she would start to talk when she was ready. He was right.

"It was very hard," she began quietly, "not being able to tell him."

Gene sighed.

"I know," he said.

"I've been there… I know how hard it is to be in a strange place and a strange time, unable to reach out and touch the ones you love. It's a desperate and terrible feeling." Alex closed her eyes briefly. "I just wish I could tell him that this place is here to _help_ him."

"You can't tell him, Alex," Gene said firmly.

"I know, I know," Alex breathed, putting her head in her hands, "I just wanted to tell him that things will get better. That we're here to help him."

"I told you it wasn't easy," said Gene, "that's why you should have moved on. When you know, it's hard to stay here." he tapped the side of his head. "That's why we forget," he said quietly. "S.O.S." He paused as Alex looked at him quietly. "Save our sanity," he explained.

Alex closed her eyes for a moment.

"I'll learn," she said decisively, "I'll learn to manage this." She paused as she heard voices coming closer and a moment later an unfamiliar woman poked her head around the door.

"Sorry to interrupt, Guv, we just got confirmation that a lorry of electronics has been stolen around the Fairway Road area."

Alex frowned, looking at the stranger, then at Gene and finally back at the woman again.

"I'm sorry," she got to her feet, "I don't think we've met."

"Bolly, we've had some new arrivals," Gene began, "This is WDC…"

"Kite," The woman reached out to shake Alex's hand, "Susannah Kite."

Alex gave a weak smile, overwhelmed by the events of the last 48 hours.

"Hello," she said, accepting the handshake, "DI Alex Drake."

Susannah left the room, allowing Alex to ask,

"Where did she come from?"

Gene got to his feet.

"Transferred in while you were out," he said, "and she's not the only one." He glanced through the window and Alex followed his glance. Somehow she hadn't noticed any of the new recruits when she arrived back from visiting Simon but she saw them now.

"Who are the others?" she asked quietly.

Gene joined her by the window.

"That's DS Webber," he began, pointing to a tall gentleman in a dark jacket with a vast amount of facial hair, "and over there," he nodded to a uniformed officer, "That's PC Malcolm something-or-other."

Alex nodded slowly.

"Do we know what the something-or-other is?" she asked.

"Something I couldn't be bothered remembering," said Gene.

Alex studied them. Their manner, their behaviour, their very presence was natural and light-hearted. It was a far cry from Simon's hysterics the day before.

"They're dead already, aren't they?" she whispered, "that's why they're behaving normally. They don't know any different."

Gene looked at her seriously.

"They're not to know," he reminded her, "they're here to work out their demons, have the life they missed out and then move on when they're ready. We don't need any of that starry shit. They're not to know."

Alex swallowed and nodded.

"Of course," she whispered. She looked at Gene seriously, sadness washing over her expression. "They need you, don't they?"

"I'm always here for my team," Gene reminded her.

"But they _really_ need you," Alex said quietly, "Just like Chris and Ray and Shaz." She felt a tear prick her eye. "You're never going to the pub, are you Gene? You're needed too much."

Gene looked at Alex.

"Now you're just getting soft," he said, "you know what I'm here for. I've got a job to do… so have you… and that job happens to be tracking down this missing lorry of stuff Shoe-shop-man would give his oPhone for."

Alex gave a tiny smile.

"iPhone," she said quietly. She tried to brush off the events of the morning and get herself back on track. "Alright. Let's get on with this case. But don't forget we still have to look into finding somewhere to live."

"Ahh yes," Gene stretched, "number one on your list."

"I was looking into my finances," Alex told him, "I still have my bank account and there's enough in there for a deposit on somewhere small. I'm going to start calling around this afternoon. How about you?"

Gene glanced at his desk and chair.

"Don't worry about me," he said, "I've already got a bed."

"Gene, you can't sleep there every night," sighed Alex, "come on, by now you _must_ have enough put aside to rent something."

"It's all gone on drink and women," said Gene.

"Rubbish," said Alex, "I haven't seen you get a round in for months."

"Just women then."

"You mean the time you bought me a chocolate bar?" Alex said knowingly. Gene looked away uncomfortably. "Oh come on, Gene, your money situation can't be _that_ bad. You must have some set aside."

Gene looked a little sheepish.

"Not any more," he said.

Alex frowned.

"Why not?" she asked, "Gene, what did you…" she followed his gaze to the window and, taking his lead, walked slowly across and peered through the blinds. A brand new Mercedes sat in Gene's parking space, shining like a diamond. Alex sighed. "Oh, Gene…"

"Got to have my wheels, Bols," Gene explained with a shrug.

Alex thought about lecturing Gene on the value of having a decent place to sleep at night over a flashy car but a slight commotion outside caught both their attention. They glanced out to see a hobbling Simon arrive.

"Must have been discharged," said Alex.

Together they left Gene's office to see how he was doing. Currently, Shoebury was attempting to get a doubtful WDC Kite to sign his cast.

"_Three _of them!" Simon hooted, "I broke three of the buggers!"

"DI Shoebury," Gene declared, "you seem calmer today."

Simon glanced at Gene.

"Well that's because…" he began, reaching into his pocket, "I've got these pills now. They're _looooooovely…._" He took out the pot and rattled it for everyone to see before flipping off the lid and downing a couple.

"DI Shoebury?" Malcolm asked.

"Yes?" smiled Simon.

"Someone handed in a mobile phone yesterday," Malcolm began, "I think it's the one you dropped in the accident."

Simon's eyes lit up.

"My iPhone!" he cried, "I _knew_ it would come back to me! Where is it?"

Malcolm left to find the piece of lost property and returned a moment later.

"Your phone, Sir," he said, handing Shoebury an item the size of three housebricks and twice as heavy, with an antenna that practically reached the ceiling at full stretch.

Simon's eyes bolted.

"M…my…. That's not my beautiful iPhone!" he cried, "_Urrrghhh….."_

The shock and the tablets took their toll, sending Simon sprawling across the floor.

"Blimey, I've never seen a reaction like that before," said Gene.

Alex glanced at the shocked faces of their new team.

"He must…. be a technophobe," she shrugged innocently.


	5. Chapter 5: Water, Frogs & Faulty Wiring

**Chapter 5**

Alex shivered as she joined her new colleagues discussing their latest case. She felt weak suddenly. Was it down to her lack of breakfast after refusing the stringy bacon in the canteen? No, it was more than that.

She realised the weakness wasn't all physical. She felt like a stranger as she watched Webber, Kite and _Something-or-other _taking the places of her dear friends, almost as though Ray, Chris and Shaz had never existed, A horrible, empty feeling washed over her. She was sure her new colleagues were very nice people but it felt so wrong. They had stepped into their shoes without so much as a day's grace to get used to them being gone.

Of course, Alex remembered, that wasn't quite true. It was 1985 now. Two years had passed in the blink of an eye. Had Gene been through this before? She felt quite sure that time hadn't shifted between Sam's departure and her arrival. Perhaps this world needed some time to adjust before she joined it. But what about those who had joined before Sam? Had Gene spent years in a world where years could disappear with no explanation? No wonder he had so many issues.

DS Webber was writing some information on the board and talking about the calls they'd received.

"The lorry was hijacked on Fairway Road," he said, "and set off down Winter Street. Eye witnesses have placed it as far as Shale Street, where it ran an old woman off the road."

"What's brought this case to the attention of CID?" Alex asked.

"Firearms, Ma'am," said Susannah, "there were firearms used in the hijacking."

"Any shots fired?"

"Not that we know of."

Alex gave a hollow sigh. In the past she'd have been right onto the case, giving orders and working out the whos, whats, whys and wherefores, but she was finding it difficult to understand to what extent any of this was real. In this strange world, how much good could they actually do? Were all the crimes fake? Were they all organised to give the team something to do while they worked through their demons? Was there any point in finding a shipment of non-existent electronics stolen by a couple of phony crooks with some imaginary firearms?

She began to wonder how Gene had coped for so long. He was right; when you knew the truth it was hard to function in this world, for many reasons. She understood now why he had forgotten. She understood why he had to block it out.

She closed her eyes for a moment. She had to pull herself together for the sake of the new recruits. The world was still real to every last one of them - with the exception of Shoebury, but since he was still dreaming peacefully about iPhones in the corner she didn't have to worry about him for a little while.

"Alright," she said, "DS Webber, I'd like you to pay a visit to the logistics company whose lorry has been stolen. See what you can find out about the cargo, try to speak to the driver if he's in any shape to be interviewed."

"Yes ma'am."

"Susannah, take Malcolm…" Alex paused, hoping Malcolm would fill in his surname but he simply gave her a wave.

"Hello," he smiled.

Alex gave a tired smile back. Taking on a little of Gene's role was wearing her down. She decided Malcolm would have to stay as _PC Something-or-other _for the time being.

"…and see if you can speak to the elderly lady the lorry ran off the road. See if you can get a description of the driver, find out anything more about the thieves."

"Sure," Susannah got to her feet with Malcolm in tow.

"What about DI Shoebury?" asked Webber.

Alex could hear some distant snoring and sleepy muttering about grapes and giant mobile phones.

"I think it's best we let him sleep for a while," she said, "and _please_, no one write anything rude on his cast. Not until he wakes up, anyway."

The team nodded and disbanded to their separate lines of enquiry, leaving Alex to trail slowly back to Gene's office. As she reached the door it seemed to open before she even had a chance to touch it. Alex gasped in surprise and expected to find herself face to face with a departing Gene but he was no where near, sitting instead at his desk and looking over the transfer papers from his new team.

"Guv," she breathed, "I think you need to get that draft looked at if its strong enough to blow your door open."

Gene looked up.

"Only draft around here is the flapping of Shoebury's lips every time he gets a thought in his head," he said, putting down the papers. "So, what's the story?"

"Looks straightforward," Alex sat down, "couple of idiots with guns, lorry full of technology, Sunday driver run off the road. Textbook case, really." She paused and looked at her hands for a moment. "How… how real is it, Gene?"

Gene looked at Alex seriously. He had expected her to question this at some point. It was only natural. It didn't mean he wasn't hurting for her though. He knew too well the inner struggle, trying to work out how tangible their existence was.

"Bolly, take this," he said, picking up the pile of papers and handing them to her. Curiously, she took them and glanced at the top page.

"What about them?" she asked.

Gene nodded toward them.

"Can you feel them in your hand?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," frowned Alex.

Gene nodded.

"There's your answer," he said.

"I don't think I understand," Alex said quietly.

"You can feel the paper," Gene began, "you could taste that… _rancid_ wine last night. You felt enough to know my coat was too lumpy for you last night. If I punched your lights out…"

"Guv!"

"…You'd certainly feel that too."

"And so would you when I returned the favour!"

Gene shook his head.

"It's just an example, Alex," he reminded her, "if you can feel it, it's real. When you can feel, you know you're alive."

Alex closed her eyes for a moment. She recalled the words from Sam's file many years ago. Sam had known how real Gene's world was. Maybe it was only now that Alex had learned the truth about it that she was starting to find out the same thing.

"It's so confusing," she whispered.

"Give it some time," Gene told her.

Alex nodded slowly.

"I'll try," she said.

Gene got to his feet and peered through into the main office.

"Where is everybody?" he asked.

"DS Webber has gone to speak to the logistics company whose lorry has been stolen," she began, "and the others have gone to speak to an unfortunate elderly lady who encountered their getaway."

Gene spied Simon snoozing in the corner.

"What about Sleeping Beauty?"

Alex gave a little smile.

"Best leave him to it," she said, "though speaking of sleeping I am going to pay a visit to an estate agent on my way to speak to the electronics firm whose shipment has gone astray. I'm hoping to find a new place as soon as I can. Are you sure you won't be joining me on the property search?"

Gene hesitated.

"Back seat looks pretty comfy," he said.

Alex sighed.

"You are the most stubborn man I've ever met," she told him.

"I hope that's supposed to be a compliment," said Gene.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"I hope you're going to behave while I'm out," she said, "I've already warned the others about writing anything nasty on Simon's cast while he's asleep."

"It hadn't even crossed my mind," gene said innocently. He surreptitiously slipped a pen out of his desk drawer as he watched Alex leave. "She didn't say anything about not drawing on his face, mind…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Alex felt a little like she was skiving from school as she entered the estate agents. She had her radio on standby and was certain the new team would have no trouble dealing with the missing gadgets on their own but she still felt like she was bunking off from double science.

She knew she had to find somewhere to live though. If she was going to get back onto some kind of even keel she had to sort herself out first and foremost. That way she'd be in the best possible position to help Simon and Susannah and Something-or-other, and whoever else needed her.

And Gene.

"Can I help you?" a young man in a suit that looked two sizes too big for him asked her.

Alex jumped. She'd been miles away.

"Oh, yes," she tried to pull herself together, "I'm looking for a place to rent. Just something small."

"And when were you thinking of moving?"

"Tonight?" Alex gave a hopeful smile.

The young estate agent looked a little taken aback.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to do that," he said as Alex gave a casual flash of her badge, "uh, but there's a couple of empty properties I can show you today. I'll try to get things moving as fast as I can for you."

"Thank you very much," Alex smiled amiably, slightly cursing herself for behaving more like Gene by the second.

-x-

Barely half an hour later she found herself at the door of a musty-smelling flat with the young estate agent.

"It's been empty a little while," he explained.

"Oh?" Alex peered inside as he opened the door for her.

"The last tenant died," he said matter-of-factly.

Alex hesitated.

"Oh," she said again. There wasn't much else she could say to that. She stepped cautiously through the doorway. Despite the mustiness the place seemed in reasonably good order. She looked around at the lights, the carpet and the walls, anything to distract herself from the one burning question on her mind. Eventually she decided she might as well get it over with. "Erm, what exactly _happened _to the previous tenant?"

The estate agent seemed a little shy to come forth with the details.

"Oh… some water… frogs… faulty wiring… you know how these things can happen." he shrugged.

Alex peered into the lounge area, looking around cautiously for anything that was green, hopping and a potential cause of death.

"I take it the wiring's been dealt with?" she asked.

"Oh yes," said the estate agent, "and the water."

She stopped and glanced back at him.

"What about the frogs?"

"Oh, they were in a bucket," the estate agent said cheerfully, "they were easy to remove."

Alex sighed. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to stop her mind from working overtime on the likely events that could have occurred. That was just great, she admonished herself, that she had the kind of brain that always needed to be working on something. First it was on what happened to her parents, then what Martin Summers was trying to tell her, then uncovering the truth about Sam Tyler, and finally how a bucket of frogs could have contributed to the death of some poor tenant.

"Nice couch," she commented.

"Yeah, that'll come with the flat," the estate agent told her cheerfully.

"Oh," Alex smiled, "a few furnishings would be useful."

"That's where it all happened, actually…." the estate agent said wistfully.

Alex frowned.

"Then again," she began, "it's always good to start a new home with some brand new furniture."

The estate agent pointed to a doorway.

"The kitchen's through there," he said.

Alex nodded and followed his directions. She walked toward the door and closed her hand around the handle but before she could turn it she felt a shiver down her spine.

"_Alex."_

A whisper came from nowhere. She glanced around to see if the estate agent had called her but he was too busy fingering the scene of death and muttering about frogs. She shrugged it off as being a little jumpy, but that made her think about frogs again so she decided it might have been time to try another place.

"I, uh, don't think it's really me," she said apologetically, "maybe we should look at somewhere else."

The estate agent seemed disappointed.

"Oh?" he asked, "I'm sorry to hear that. It was going for a song, too.

"Yeah, probably _The Frog Chorus,"_ Alex muttered under her breath.

"Sorry?"

"Uh," Alex pretended she hadn't spoken, "have you got anything else you can show me?"

"There's another empty flat just around the corner," he said, "I could take you there quickly if you have time."

"That sounds good," said Alex. She paused. "Just reassure me there were no untimely deaths related to amphibians there first."

"Oh, no," said the estate agent with a smile, "I doubt a frog has ever set foot through the doorway."

He made to leave and Alex began to follow.

"Good," she said with a sigh of relief.

"Of course," the estate agent began, "there was that giraffe incident…"

Alex had learned her lesson with the frogs and didn't even ask what he was talking about. As she followed him out of the front door she thought she caught a glimpse of a face reflected in the round doorknob. She jumped and glanced behind her but there was no one there.

"_Alex…." _she heard again.

Another shiver went down her spine. The voice struck her heart with fear. It was a familiar voice, and one which she didn't want to think about, not for a second. She slammed the door behind her, leaving the whispers and shadows behind. She was tired. That was it. She'd had a very difficult day and she just needed a good night's sleep. Hopefully she would soon find a place to rest well at night - barring any issues with giraffes, of course.

As she followed the estate agent back down the stair case and out to his car she couldn't shake the whisper ringing through her ears, or the image she'd seen reflected in the brass. The dark hair and the glasses, the coat and the smirk. Whatever his nature, she knew Keats had become her own personal demon now. She could only hope he would stop haunting her and let her live in peace.

"Leave me alone, Jim," she murmured to herself. It was time to get a grip and banish her fear of that man once and for all.


	6. Chapter 6: Someone Else's Home

**Chapter 6**

Alex felt determined and strong by the time she finally arrived back at CID. It had taken hallucinations of Keats to make her realise just how shaken and unnerved she was feeling in the wake of everything she had been through. After viewing a second flat (with fewer fatal frog incidents and only _one_ occurrence of a rogue giraffe) she had allowed herself a long, cleansing cry in the privacy of her future home while the estate agent disappeared off to complete the relevant paperwork.

She cried for Molly. She cried for Gene. She cried for herself. She cried for the friends she missed, for the home she'd never see again, for the years she'd skipped over, for the loss of the life she knew. She cried about the fear of Keats returning and the pressure of keeping the secret. She cried for the souls of Simon and the others. She cried for the secret Gene had been keeping for so very long. By the time she finished crying her eyes were red and raw but her shoulders were lighter as the emotions that had built up slowly released themselves.

She did her best to tidy her appearance before setting off to sign the papers and pay a visit an electronics dealer who was now down around a hundred computers. Eventually it was time to liaise back at CID and Alex felt wholly more resolute to get as far back to normal as possible. She shuddered as she opened the door, recalling who she'd seen reflected the last time she turned a handle but pressed on through.

The rest of the team were already gathered, keeping the Guv up to speed on the situation and to one side Simon sat, awake and sore.

"Hey," she gave him a friendly smile, "you're back with us."

"Unfortunately," Simon said sadly. He looked at Alex forlornly, "I was hoping I would wake up in my own bed, at home."

Alex looked at him sympathetically.

"Maybe it's time for another pill," she said. She frowned as she spotted for the first time that he had a crudely-drawn stitched scar down one side of his face and half a handlebar moustache. "Or a mirror."

"Where are my pills?" Simon frowned, reaching through his pockets.

"Oh, yes," Alex began, "I thought it might be an idea if I looked after these for you." She rummaged in her pocket until she found Simon's painkillers and sedatives. "Overmedication isn't going to help us track down these computer poachers."

Simon developed a sparkle in his eye for the first time.

"Computers?" he asked with interest.

Alex popped open the painkillers with ease, scarcely able to believe that childproof tops were not the norm by the mid eighties. She handed him a painkiller and returned them to her pocket, along with the sedatives. "Let's just try you on these for now," she said.

Simon took the tablet in silence and popped it onto his tongue. He swallowed it with some difficulty, not wishing to accept a drink from one of the dirty CID mugs he'd spotted Webber drinking from a few minutes earlier. He felt defeated and empty now. He'd fought and fought against the strange world he'd entered and he still wasn't home. He was exhausted and in pain with a cast hampering his movements. He'd made a fool of himself, had an impromptu demotion and had found a rather rude poem about his iPhone written on the side of his cast. He felt like he had no fight left in him.

"Drakey, nice of you to join us," sighed Gene.

"Sorry, Guv," she said a little sheepishly as she crossed the room to speak to him, "I got caught up."

"With what?"

"Oh… water, frogs, faulty wiring," she gave a shrug and a smile, "you know how it is…" she moved directly in front of Gene so that no one could make out her words and hissed quietly, "Simon appears to have grown some unusual facial hair since I left."

"Well I only had time to draw the first half of it before he bloody woke up, didn't I?" Gene said with genuine annoyance.

"I thought you were going to behave," said Alex.

"You only said not to write on his cast, and I didn't," said Gene.

"Hmm. I'll be examining the handwriting later," Alex told him. She gave him a stern glance and then looked back to the others. "Alright, I've just come back from Buzzworks Electronics. They hired Carters Logistics to transport computers to their main outlets. They manufacture their own electronics but import and sell other brands too, and it was a consignment of these that has been stolen. Not for the first time either." She pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. "A lorry-load of televisions were hijacked last year. We can get the details from uniform."

Webber took the sheet of paper and studied the details.

"Appeal for information," he read with a frown, "did they ever track down the culprits?"

"No," Alex shook her head, "the tellies and the people involved were never found. Neither was the lorry. The company claimed back on the insurance but the lack of stock almost sent them out of business."

"Please don't tell me this is the same distribution company," said Gene.

"No," said Alex, "understandably they went looking elsewhere."

"We got a description of the thieves," said Malcolm.

"Excellent," said Alex, "circulate it immediately. Get it to the press and the media."

"We might not need that," said Webber, "I took a look at the distribution company." He pointed to a list pinned to the board, "most of the employees have been with the company for a long time but these three and the newest recruits, the last two joining within the last six months." he paused, "and one of them was the driver."

"What else do we know about him?" asked Alex.

"He's belonged to two other logistics companies within the last two years, he left his last job due to 'on the job trauma'."

"You make it sound like he fell off the kharzi," said Gene

"His file doesn't say what the trauma was," said Webber.

"Anything else?"

"He has two properties registered in his name," said Webber, "One is a four bedroom detached house -"

"Bit flashy for a lorry driver," commented Susannah.

"And the other is a lock-up round the back of the Kent estate."

Gene got to his feet.

"A lock up, you say?" he considered. He pulled on his gloves. "Let's go and unlock it then."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Alex and Gene watched as Webber and Malcolm repeatedly, if ineffectively, slammed their shoulders into the metal door.

"It's just not the same, is it?" Alex commented with her arms folded.

"Say what you like about Raymundo but he'd be the other side of that door by now," agreed Gene, "Come on, give over, let me do it then. If you want a job done properly…"

He took a few steps back and braced himself. He took a deep breath and silently counted to three. Time for some Hunt Power. Drawing up all his strength he pushed himself through the air, closer and closer to the metal, too fast to stop himself when he saw the panel start to rise automatically. With eyes bolting wide he tried to skid to a halt, his shoulder catching the bottom of the panel and bouncing backwards from the door, crashing to the floor.

As the panel reached its most open position the team blinked at the sight of a figure standing within.

"Simon?" frowned Alex.

"Oh bloody 'ell," Gene picked himself up and dusted himself off, "is there no beginning to your usefulness?"

"How on earth did you get in?" Asked Alex.

"The door around the back," Simon said innocently.

"You could have told us," Webber rubbed his shoulder.

"You seemed to be having too much fun behaving like cavemen," said Simon. He paused. "The door wasn't the only thing I found round there either."

"Please don't tell me you found your aPhone," sighed Gene.

Simon scowled.

"_iPhone!_" he cried, "and no, I didn't." He paused for effect. "I've found one lorry driver, all ready for questioning." He pointed to a gentleman slumped on the floor.

"What happened to him?" Alex frowned.

Simon looked a little sheepish.

"I… accidentally knocked him out with my crutches," he said apologetically.

For the first time since Simon has arrived the night before Gene actually looked impressed.

"Good work, Shoebury," he said.

Simon glanced at him in surprise.

"Oh," he said, "uh…. Thank you."

The others stepped inside the lock-up and began to look around. Piles of boxes were stacked floor to ceiling. There were televisions, video recorders, hi-fis, computers - you name it.

"So I think it's safe to say this isn't all from today," said Webber.

"Exactly how big _is_ this operation?" Susannah looked around.

"Hopefully we'll be able to find that information very soon," said Alex, looking at the slightly concussed man rubbing his head on the floor.

Simon turned around and accidentally caught his crutch on a pile of boxes which came tumbling down around him. In the confusion, one seemed to land square in his arms. He looked at it in surprise.

"It's an Atari 65XEP!" he cried.

Alex glanced at him.

"A what?"

Simon's eyes were full of childhood wonder.

"It's everything I ever wanted," he cried in delight.

Alex felt a strange fondness as she looked at the geeky happiness on Simon's face. It was the first time she'd seen him experiencing any kind of emotion other than depression, despair or anger. She wondered how long she had been in Gene's world before she smiled for the first time.

"It looks like it was meant for you," she said, smiling.

Simon glanced around guiltily for a moment, then tucked it under his arm.

"Well, we might need one for evidence," he said.

"Get up, Sunshine," Gene hauled the driver to his feet, "we've got a few questions for you. The first one is, which one is the best of these tellies? And can I 'ave one?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Alex felt like a mother hen watching over her chicks as she took refuge in Gene's office later that day. She peered out upon the others through the window as they completed paperwork, talked about the case and marvelled over Simon's Atari.

"They did well today," she commented.

"It wasn't exactly a mindblowing case," said Gene.

"But they're becoming a team," Alex gave a little smile. She still felt a pang of sadness as she thought about her absent friends. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to looking out and not seeing Shaz at her desk or Ray and Chris joking around. "They got a result today."

Gene sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"One corrupt lorry driver, moves on from company to company, arranges for a couple of friends to hijack the shipment, proceeds go three ways." he scratched his head. "They're not the smartest knives in the drawer, are they?"

"I wouldn't say that," Alex began, "the other two haven't been found yet."

Gene stood up and grabbed his coat.

"I think," he began, "it's time to put our new team to the test, Bols."

"Oh?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

Gene nodded.

"Let's see which one is the first to get a round in."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Alex sipped her wine and looked around.

"I thought you swore off of this place," she commented.

"Yeah, well, give me time to find a better boozer," said Gene, "for now this will have to do."

Alex was feeling a little bewildered that evening. She'd just witnessed something that shook her beliefs to their very core.

"I just can't believe you actually got a _round in_," she said, shaking her head.

"I thought it might be good for morale," Gene muttered, burying his face in his glass.

Alex looked around the rest of the team, chatting amongst themselves, with the exception of Simon who appeared to be balancing his Atari on his head.

"Where are you going to sleep tonight, Gene?" she asked quietly.

"I'm trying out the backseat," Gene told her.

"You can't sleep in a car," Alex told him.

"Got any better ideas?"

Alex hesitated.

"Tomorrow I'm signing the lease on my new flat. I'll be in by tomorrow night. I can't do much for you right now but tomorrow…"

"I'm not a charity case, Bolly."

"It's not charity."

Gene took a swig of his drink.

"Got a bed yet?" he asked.

"No… but I have got a couch."

"Gene Hunt does not sleep on some pink, girly couch," Gene told her.

Alex tried to muffle a smile.

"It's not 'pink', it's 'fuscia'," she said.

"Well anyway," Gene continued, "I've got a roof over my head. It's just that it happens to be metal and mobile."

"I'm sure your new car is _lovely_," Alex began, "but…"

"A man needs time to bond with his car, Bols," Alex told him, "Get a feel for it… smell the leather interior… grasp the steering wheel…"

Alex rolled her eyes.

"OK, I get it, you need some time alone to get to know your Merc." She paused. "Well, the offer is there."

"Anyway," Gene shifted the focus onto Alex, "Where are you sleeping tonight?"

Alex sighed. She'd been trying not to think about that.

"One more night at my desk, I suppose," she said quietly.

Gene refilled her glass.

"Back seat's pretty big," he said.

Alex suppressed a smirk.

"I won't get in the way of your male bonding time," she said. The sound of some loud singing caught their attention and they glanced around to see Simon singing a raucous version of a song that wouldn't be released for at least two decades. "He seems…. cheerful," Alex frowned, "he seems almost…" she turned to Gene, "drunk. That's not orange juice, is it?"

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Gene! The man's teetotal! That's an awful thing to do!"

"I didn't!" he paused, "I just… gave the man back his tablets."

Alex sighed.

"Thanks, Gene," she said crossly, "thanks a lot." She got to her feet.

"Where do you think you're going, Lady B?" asked Gene.

"To take him home," said Alex, "before he tries to eat the computer or something."

She crossed to Simon's table and knelt down beside him.

"Oh, hello," he grinned amiably, "where'd you come from?"

"Simon, which pills have you taken?" she asked him gently.

"The little blue and white ones," smiled Simon, "they're my favourites."

Alex sighed.

"I think you need to get home and go to bed," she told him.

"I don't have a home," Simon said sadly.

"I'm sure you do," said Alex. She paused. "Try your wallet. See if you have some ID."

"Erm," Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He scattered cards across the table - bank cards, library cards, video rental shop cards… finally he dug out an address. He frowned and squinted at it. "You're going to have to help me read it though."

Alex took the card and read the address. She felt a cold dread pass down her spine.

"That's my flat," she whispered. A lump appeared in her throat that spread down to her chest. Her own address jumped off the paper at her. She remembered their visit to Luigi's the night before, when it was still 1983. The place was dark and abandoned. Now two years had passed and it seemed it was home to someone else. She felt heavy-hearted. It felt as though Simon was her direct replacement.

"Whassamatter?" asked Simon.

Alex took a deep breath.

"Nothing," she said, putting on a fake smile, "come on, let's get you home. Can you walk?"

"No, I've eaten my crutches," said Simon.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"Luckily for you a new pair seem to have materialised," she said, passing them to Shoebury and helping him up. She glanced over at Gene before she left. He was nursing a glass by himself now. She had to admit that she felt bad leaving him so early in the evening but knew Simon's current state was at least in part his fault so she didn't feel _that_ guilty. "Enjoy the your night of man/car bonding," she called to him as they left, trying not to admit there was a part of her that wanted to try out the back seat too.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Alex lumbered along with Simon, doing more to hold him up than his crutches had done. The dark feeling in her chest increased the closer she got to the place she used to call home. As they turned the corner she saw that where Luigi's had once stood a trendy hairdressers was sat in its place. She didn't know what to expect as she helped Simon up to his flat, the Atari tucked under her arm. She almost didn't want to look as they stepped inside the place she'd spent the best part of three years. The décor was much the same, although the furniture was new. She was relieved in a way that it didn't feel like her home any more.

"I think you should go right to bed," she told Simon.

"But I want to play on my Atari!" Simon moaned.

"Plenty of time for that tomorrow," said Alex.

Simon glanced at her as she helped him to the bedroom.

"You look funny," he said.

Alex frowned.

"Thanks," she said crossly. She helped him sit on the bed and put her hands on her hips. "You'll be OK now."

Simon didn't look so sure of that.

"Are you going?" he asked quietly.

"Well I'm not sticking around to watch you strip down to your cast," said Alex.

Simon hesitated.

"I…. really don't want to be on my own," he said quietly.

Alex bit her lip. She could understand that.

"Simon," she began, "when you lay down you'll close your eyes and you'll fall fast asleep. When you wake up tomorrow you'll have a clearer head and you'll be fine."

"But what about the voices?" Simon asked, "and the people?"

"What voices and people?"

"Didn't you see him before? Philip Schofield, in the corner, with the stupid puppet…" Simon literally trembled, "I don't know what's happening to me."

Alex closed her eyes, just for a moment. She had forgotten what it was like when you first entered this world. She had forgotten about the strange messages, the visitations of characters from years gone by. At least that meant Simon was still holding on. At least it meant someone was trying to get through to him.

"I think you should try to get some sleep," she said quietly, "I'll stay on the sofa just for tonight, just to make sure you're OK." she paused. "And if Gordon the Gopher comes near you I'll rip his squeaker out. Deal?"

Simon actually gave a little but genuine smile.

"Deal," he agreed.

Alex helped him raise his legs onto the bed. He was almost asleep by the time she crossed the room to the door.

"Goodnight," she said quietly.

As she closed the door her heart went out to him. Curling up on the sofa for the night she wondered how many nights she'd spent in that very flat, living in fear that the next message from home would bring bad news. She hoped that, for Simon, the next message would be the one to bring him round.


	7. Chapter 7: A Private Word

**Chapter 7**

Simon opened his eyes just a crack. His head hurt and his foot hurt. His pride had taken a fair bashing as well. Automatically he reached out for his iPhone to check for messages but found nothing by his bed except a small glass of water.

"Damnit," he sighed, "I'm still _here_."

He gradually moved his legs out of bed and reached out for his crutches. His clothes were crumpled, his hair a mess and his head full of stupid dreams about squeaky puppets. He slowly got to his feet and hobbled out of the bedroom where he found Alex pouring coffee.

"Morning," she said pleasantly.

Simon rubbed his forehead.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Don't you remember?" asked Alex, "you needed protecting from Gordon the Gopher."

"Oh, yeah," Simon cringed, "that's right." he paused. "My head is killing me."

"Overmedication." Alex said gently. She handed him a couple of paracetamol. "I think you'd better stick to these from now on."

Simon took them and gave Alex a grateful smile.

"Thank you," he said.

Alex smiled back.

"Will you be OK if I leave now?"

Simon nodded slowly.

"I'll be fine." He paused. "Thanks… for staying. And for the coffee."

"No problem," Alex gave a smile and a nod, then left fairly quickly. She had started to feel strange about being in her old home again and couldn't bear to stick around for much longer.

* * *

She took a leisurely walk to the office. She'd taken advantage of the opportunity to take a shower and have a decent breakfast before departing and felt a little more like her old self. She arrived in CID to find Gene looking a little more crumpled and a little less rested than herself.

"I was waiting for you last night, Bolly," he said.

Alex looked at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I warmed me coat up and everything for you."

"Oh…" Alex felt a little guilty and also disappointed, "I'm sorry. I spent the night on Simon's sofa."

Gene scowled.

"You what?"

"He was hallucinating and scared," Alex told him, "he needed protecting from squeaky puppets."

"So if I shoved my hand up something and made it squeak would you come running to protect me too?" Gene asked with a scowl.

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"That depends where exactly you were planning to put your hand," she began.

Gene stood up and smoothed down his clothes a little.

"Anyway," he interrupted Alex's line of thought, "where is laughing boy this morning?"

"He'll be here soon," she said, "give him time to wake up a bit." She paused as she studied Gene's scowl. "Nothing happened, you know," she told him, "I really did sleep on the couch." She waited for a moment to give Gene time to react but he only seemed to become more agitated. "So… are we were going to talk about it?"

"About what? Shoeboy's furnishings?"

"That kiss," Alex felt redness spreading across her cheeks, "we haven't mentioned it since it happened." She noticed Gene looked a little uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how to deal with his emotions, even now. "I enjoyed it," Alex continued, "of course, I'd have preferred it to happen under happier circumstances but, I'm just saying, if you ever wanted a… repeat performance…"

The door opened as Malcolm poked his head in. Gene glanced up and flushed.

"Right," he flustered, "yes, thank you, Drake, very interesting feedback. I will note it for future reference." He cleared his throat and looked at Malcolm. "You could try knocking."

"Sorry, Sir," Malcolm apologised, "we just got a call in, looks like uniform have picked up one of the other computer thieves."

Gene nodded.

"Right. Thank you." he said. He stared at the young man for a few moments. When he didn't move, Gene eventually said, "are you glued to the spot or something?"

Malcolm looked a little ashamed.

"Uh, sorry," he said, "I'll get back to work."

Alex raised her eyebrow as he left.

"Don't you think that was a little harsh?" she asked.

"I'm sick of interruptions," said Gene, "we need to talk. Properly, this time."

Alex nodded.

"I agree," the tiniest smile began to creep onto her face.

"And not that bloody wine bar," said Gene, "when we're talking I want to be drinking something that's not going to strip the paint off me new car."

Alex smiled.

"Fair enough," she said, "listen, I'm signing the lease on my new flat later. It has some basic furniture, not much else at the moment, but it'll be private at least." she paused. "And I could do with some help moving in. Getting things in order."

"I hope you don't expect me to pull on a pair of marigolds and start scrubbing the kitchen," Gene commented.

Alex allowed herself a tiny smile at the thought.

"I'm sure it's perfectly clean already," she said. She paused as a thought struck her. "Actually, you can see for yourself this afternoon. When I've signed the lease I'm taking a few things round. I could use some help."

"Charming," said Gene, "I'm your removal man _and_ your cleaner now."

"Well, if you don't want to help…" Alex tiptoed to the door.

Gene sighed.

"I didn't say that," he scratched his head, "What time do you need me?"

"About two?" Alex asked hopefully.

Gene rubbed his temples.

"One condition," he said,

"Name it."

"I get to christen the drinks cabinet."

* * *

Simon supped his coffee and sighed. The paracetamol had helped soothe away his headache and take the edge off his painful toes, the coffee had awoken his mind and his breakfast of toast and cornflakes had given him back a little energy. He had to admit that he was feeling a little more normal now, but that didn't stretch to his current situation.

He felt scared. He didn't know how to get home. No one was going to help him work it out either. He had no one to rely on, no friends, no family, no technology - just his own wits.

"I'm screwed," he muttered.

He slowly stood up and let the crutches take his weight. Just as he was trying to work out how to carry the plate and bowl across to the sink without causing a sea of broken crockery there was a slow knock at the door. Simon froze. Who knew he was there? Even _he_ had only known he lived there for around eleven hours.

He made his way to the front door and opened it cautiously, just a crack. Outside stood a man with dark hair and glasses, a long coat flowing around his body. Simon hesitated as a moment of familiarity struck him.

"Yes?" he asked.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled forth some ID.

"Jim Keats, Dicipline and Complaints department," he began, "can I come in?"

Simon opened the door just a little further, not enough to allow the man inside but enough to see him a little better.

"You," he began, "you were at the hospital."

"Just paying you a visit to see how you were," said Keats, "less than a day under Gene Hunt and you end up with three broken bones."

"Oh, no, that was my fault," Simon began, but Keats cut him off.

"Don't make excuses for him."

"I'm not! It really was my fault. I just kicked out in anger…"

"….at Hunt?"

Simon hesitated.

"Kind of."

Keats nodded.

"I don't think you belong here," he said.

Simon felt a jolt in his chest. His heart seemed to speed up.

"What?"

"You don't want to be here. It's not your home."

Simon found his limbs going weak.

"No," he whispered, "it's not my home."

Keats nodded.

"I have a proposition for you," he said, "you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Simon.

"Help me cut out the rot from CID."

Simon hesitated.

"What do you mean?"

"If you can help me can get rid of Hunt then things will get better," Keats told him, "he's going to root in that place. He needs digging up. They need some fresh blood."

"He does seem… old-fashioned," said Simon.

"He's corrosive. The longer you stay with him, the less of you there will be left."

"I'm not planning to stick around," said Simon.

"And how are you intending to get home?" asked Keats. Simon fell silent. He knew he had no plan. He had no possibilities. No hope of finding his way back. As the darkness of his situation engulfed him again Keats offered a glimmer of light. "I can help you," he urged, "I can get you home. The moment Hunt is destroyed you'll get your one-way ticket away from this place."

Simon began to breathe heavily.

"I don't even know you," he said.

"Who _do_ you know here?" Keats prompted.

"No one," said Simon, "not very well, anyway."

"And has anyone else offered you help finding your way home?"

Simon shook his head.

"No," he said quietly.

Keats looked at him seriously.

"Think about it," he said, "think seriously about what I've said. The deal won't be open forever."

Keats hesitated just for a moment to give Simon the kind of lingering glance that he would be taking to the grave. Then he turned on his heels and made his exit, leaving Simon in a state of confusion. He rested a crutch against the wall and rubbed his head. The world had suddenly become an even more confusing place.


	8. Chapter 8: Just Say No

**Chapter 8**

Alex sat on the bottom step leading up to the front door of her new home. It was an old house that had been converted into separate apartments the year before of a style which would become so popular a few years down the line. She was starting again from scratch, she had nothing but the few pieces of furniture that came along with the four walls. Beside her were two cardboard boxes containing some second hand items she'd toured the local charity shops for; some crockery and kitchen utensils, a few pieces of clothing - whatever she could get cheaply. She also had a bag full of basic food and drink to get her through the first day or so without resorting to the canteen again.

The sound of tyres screaming caught her attention and her eyes snapped up to see a Mercedes storming closer and closer until it screeched to a halt. The door opened and Gene stepped out like an enigma.

"So this is the new _château de Bols_, is it?" he asked.

Alex got to her feet.

"I hope you brought your marigolds," she said cheekily, picking up one box and leaving Gene to grab the other.

Gene scowled at the thought.

"Did I bollocks," he muttered.

They entered the doorway together and walked up two flights of stairs to the doorway Alex had passed through for the first time just the day before. She unlocked it and stepped inside, holding it open for Gene to walk by.

"You can put them in the kitchen," she said.

"You'll have to bloody tell me where the kitchen is first," Gene told her.

"Through that door, then through the next," said Alex.

They left the boxes in the kitchen and collected the bag of food. After putting the milk and butter in the fridge they left the rest of the bag as it was and found themselves in the lounge. Gene looked out of the window and kept one eye on his car.

"Not bad, Bolly," he commented.

"It's nicer than the other flat I saw," Alex sighed, "and as far as I know no one's died here."

Gene didn't know the story about the frogs and the faulty wiring so his glance toward Alex was one of confusion.

"Lack of corpses, always the best place to start when househuntin'," he said. He turned to her fully and took a step forward. "Are we going to have that talk?"

Alex hesitated.

"I thought we were going to talk tonight," she said nervously.

"Yeah, well, patience never was my strong point," said Gene. He shuffled a little awkwardly on the spot. "Listen, you got some tea bags and a kettle in there?"

Alex nodded.

"Yes."

"I'm gasping. If you put the kettle on I'll wait here and try to get in touch with me feelings."

Alex hesitated. She began to feel nervous, like a teenager on a first date. She was torn between relief at the prospect of finally bringing things out in the open and fear at not knowing what could happen next. She was also vaguely annoyed about being told to put the kettle on.

"Are you still on seven sugars?" she asked.

"Cut down to six," said Gene.

Alex sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," she said.

The walk to the kitchen was only a few seconds long but felt like it took forever. She could only imagine how long it would take for the kettle to boil. A kettle was one thing that came with the flat, and luckily she'd managed to pick up a few mugs and teaspoons. She filled the kettle, flicked the switch and rummaged around in one of the boxes until she found a Roland Rat mug and one with the Knight Rider logo across it. Gene could have that one, she decided.

As the kettle boiled she fetched the tea bags from the bag of food and searched for the sugar. She cursed. It was the one thing she didn't have. She would have to try to keep Gene talking long enough that his tea would go cold and he wouldn't have a chance to taste it.

The kettle drew to a whistling climax. Alex found a teaspoon, distributed a couple of teabags and bent down to open up the fridge door. As it opened and the light flicked on it seemed ultra-bright for a split second and blinded her. She gasped a little in surprise and blinked a few times. A strange mist seemed to hang in the air. Was it her breath?

"_Alex…."_

A voice came from within the refrigerator. Alex gasped and drew back in horror. Behind the mist she could see a face appearing. The black, slicked hair, the spectacles, the smirk - it chilled her to her very core. She screamed and slammed the door, her heart thumping away in her chest. What the hell was happening to her? She was falling apart.

Picking up speed, she paced out of the kitchen and grabbed her coat.

"Where's the tea?" frowned Gene.

"No sugar," Alex said shakily.

"No bloody sugar?"

She reached the front door and opened it.

"We're leaving," she said.

"Hang on, we only just got here!"

"We'll get tea at the office."

Gene stood up, looking bewildered. What had changed in the last five minutes?

"I've been getting in touch with me feelings and all!" he protested. He followed Alex out of the door and watched in confusion as she slammed it, locked it and leaned up against it with a sigh of relief. He waited for her to explain her behaviour or at least apologise but she seemed unable to speak. Eventually she began to walk slowly to the staircase.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "about the sugar."

Gene followed her.

"I'm more worried about _you_," said Gene, "what's happened, Bols? Did you see a mouse or something?"

Alex picked up some speed.

"A rat, more like," she said. They left the building and Alex's pace slowed down a little. "Gene, I'm… I'm sorry. I'm a bit jumpy at the moment. I think I must be overtired."

"Simon's sofa not very comfortable then?" asked Gene.

Alex stopped walking and tried to look at gene but couldn't meet his gaze.

"I'll make it up to you," she whispered, "tonight. We'll get some take away, some good wine…" she paused, "I'll even get some sugar."

Gene stared at her.

"Are you sure you still want me round?" he asked, "no more rats in your kitchen?"

"Not unless UB40 come round and start playing," Alex muttered. She paused. "No more rats. I promise."

Gene looked at her seriously.

"If there was anything else…" he paused, "you know you can talk to me. Whatever it is."

Alex kept looking at her feet. She didn't want Gene to know about the visions that were plaguing her. That was the last thing he needed to hear about.

"I'm fine, Gene," she said as sincerely as she could, "I need a few good nights' sleep and a few decent meals."

Gene hesitated. Then he nodded slowly.

"We'll see if we can sort those out tonight," he agreed.

Alex finally looked him in the eye. She gave him a brief but warm smile.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Just make sure you get the sugar," said Gene, "and a mouse trap. Just in case."

* * *

Simon sat at his desk, his leg propped up on a chair. In front of him was a note pad on which he was supposed to be going through the details of the connection between the computer raid and several other thefts in the are over the last three years. Instead, he was doodling a picture of a man in a long, dark coat. He couldn't get Keats out oh his mind. Was this man really his ticket home? He seemed to be the only one prepared to help him, or even to acknowledge that this was not his home.

He glanced up as he heard footsteps approaching and quickly closed his pad. Gene and Alex entered, mid-conversation.

"Next time you have a freak out, Bolly," Gene was saying, "can you try not to make it in the middle of making a cuppa?"

"I already said I was sorry," Alex told him.

"I wouldn't mind but I'm still gasping," Gene said. He glanced at Simon. "Ahh, Shoe-boy, make yourself useful."

Simon slowly got to his feet and grasped his crutches.

"Yes?"

"Tea. Milk, seven sugars."

"I thought you'd cut down," frowned Alex.

"It's the stress," said Gene.

Simon was speechless for a moment.

"Did you just ask me to make the tea?" he demanded.

"No, I didn't ask you," said Gene, "I _told _you to make it."

Simon's mouth fell open.

"I am a DCI," he cried.

"That's not what your papers say."

"I don't _have _any papers! I didn't transfer!"

"They are sitting on my desk if you'd care to see them."

"I didn't transfer! I got hit on the head by a file server and the next thing I knew I woke up in the dark ages where you need a winch to lift your mobile phone, surrounded by cavemen and weirdos!"

"Then it sounds to me," Gene began, "that you could do with a nice, strong brew." He glanced toward the kitchen. "I'd say this was as good a time as any to make one."

Simon stared at Gene. Then the stare became a glare. But as hard as he tried he couldn't out-glare him and, defeated, he eventually shuffled towards the kitchen. He slammed around, walloping mugs on the counter so hard he was lucky they didn't break, slamming cupboard doors and throwing spoons in the general direction of the mugs.

He thought angrily about the way he was being treated. He thought about Gene and the cruel things he'd said to him. He thought about Keats and the promise of getting home. He thought about the deal he'd been offered just a few hours ago. Simon was a good man. That's why he entered the force in the first place. He had progressed through the ranks by working with efficiency and sticking to his morals. Gene Hunt was his complete and utter opposite. He despised everything he'd seen of the man so far, but that didn't mean he could bring himself to destroy him.

The pressure began to get to him. Between being stuck far from home, the demotion, the bullying, the strange man in the dark coat and the lack of his iPhone he started to feel suffocated. He felt as though he couldn't breathe. Before the kettle had a chance to finish boiling he got back on his crutches and hobbled out the kitchen, through the office and toward the door.

"Oi!" Gene called after him, "where are you going? What happened to my brew?"

"We're out of sugar," Simon snapped back, disappearing through the doors.

Gene rubbed his forehead.

"Bloody hell, must be a sugar shortage or something," he commented.

-x-

Simon moved as fast as his crutches would let him through the car park and out of the grounds. He needed to get away. He needed a break. He had to clear his head, to get the dark feeling of dread from his chest, to breathe easily again. He took several deep breaths, trying to get the air into his lungs. Wherever this place was, he didn't like it and he didn't want to stay.

As he turned a corner he found himself face to face with the dark coat that had been plaguing his thoughts all day.

"Well well well," Keats smiled, "imagine that, just running into each other like this. What were the chances?"

Simon took a step back.

"Are you following me?" he said quietly.

Keats shook his head.

"Must be fate," he smiled amiably.

"Look," Simon began, "I have thought about what you said, but I can't do that to someone. I can't do that to anyone."

"You'll only have to fulfil one small task," said Keats, "then leave the rest to me. No one will even know."

"I d-don't even really _know_ the guy," Simon stammered.

"Do you _like_ him?"

"Well, no."

Keats smiled.

"So no harm done then!"

Simon shook his head.

"I don't know who you are but if you think Hunt is bent then take him down the proper way."

"Been down that route before, my friend," said Keats, "he's a slippery fellow. It's through my methods or not at all."

"I don't want any part of this," said Simon, turning his head and starting to walk away.

"Oh really?" asked Keats, "even if it means getting home?" he paused. "I know who you have waiting for you. I know you have a partner and two sisters and a father who are all crying for you."

Simon gasped and turned back to face him.

"Y-you've seen them?" he whispered.

"Oh yes," Keats nodded, "they're missing you. They're starting to think it's all over. You're never going to wake up."

"So I'm still alive?" cried Simon, "and this is just a dream?"

"wouldn't you call it a nightmare?" asked Keats.

Simon hung his head.

"If this is just a dream then I can wake up without your help," he said, "I don't have to set up some guy to get home. I don't need you."

He turned to walk back to the station but Keats' voice called out to stop him.

"I can get you your iPhone back."

Simon stopped in his tracks. He hesitated. He didn't _want_ to look back. He didn't want to trust Keats. But Keats had found his weak spot.

"What?"

Keats smiled broadly.

"I can get your iPhone," he said, "your laptop, your blu-ray player, your flat-screen TV with surround sound, your PS3. I can get you back home with all your comforts. Just say the word and I'll do it. But you'll have to do something for me in return."

Simon took a deep breath. He gathered his strength together and closed his eyes.

"You can stick your blu-ray up your arse," he said.

He felt a pang of sadness as he walked back toward the station, but something inside him told him he'd done the right thing. He didn't trust the bespectacled man. He didn't trust gene either, but that just made them even. Simon was still on his own, without a friend or an ally.

He remembered the kindly Alex who'd taken him home, put him to bed and made him coffee the next morning. He remembered her visiting him in hospital and looking out for him on several occasions. Maybe, he thought, he did have one ally after all.


	9. Chapter 9: Things Used to be Different

**Chapter 9**

Gene watched, almost open mouthed, as Simon returned empty-handed.

"Where's the sugar?" he demanded.

"Shop was shut," Simon snapped.

Gene scowled. What had started with an excuse to give him a few minutes to get his thoughts together at Alex's had turned into a full-blown desire for a hot cup of tea. It had started to feel like there was a sugar conspiracy against him. He slammed the door of his office and marched to the exit.

"Where are you going, Guv?" Alex glanced up.

"To pay a visit to Mister Tate and Mister Lyle and ask them where the bloody hell all my sugar's gone!" said Gene.

Alex gave a smile as she watched him leave. Her nerves had soothed a little since finding the unexpected guest in her fridge. She had put it down to a hallucination caused by all the trauma she'd been through of late, coupled with a lack of sleep. Even so, she couldn't shake the image of _that_ face amid the dairy products in her fridge, neither could she get rid of the stupid joke about knowing you've had an elephant in your fridge because of the footprints in the butter from her head.

_How do you know Jim Keats has been in your fridge?_ her head asked her, and before she had time to block it out the punch line it stormed into her mind:- _because of the Wham! tape stuck in the butter._

As she tried to shake the whole incident from her mind she saw Simon looking forlorn. The office was quiet, with Webber, Susannah and Malcolm chasing up various computer-related loose ends and Gene on a sugar-related mission. She walked across to him and smiled.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Simon wasn't sure how to answer that.

"My toes are feeling better," he said, "the rest of me might take a while to catch up."

Alex pulled out a chair and sat beside him.

"You look troubled," she said.

Simon thought for a moment. A part of him wanted to tell her about the strange man he'd encountered twice that day. A part of him wanted to confide in her about everything he was going through. But he still didn't know her well enough to know whether he could trust her any more than Hunt or Keats.

"Alex," he began, "when you're in a strange place… with people you don't know… how are you supposed to know who's on your side?"

Alex looked at him sympathetically.

"That's a dilemma you face all through your life," she reminded him, "at school, starting a new job, moving to a new town…"

"It's not usually this hard though," said Simon. He paused and looked at his hands. "This place is so strange. I don't feel like I'm on the same side as _anyone_ else."

"I think you're on the same side as me," Alex said, trying to cheer him up.

"It's just… so hard to know who to trust," he sighed.

Alex knew that feeling well.

"Simon," she began quietly, "as hard as it might be to believe I really do understand what you mean. When I first arrived I didn't know who to believe in or who was on my side. You'll meet people who will want to use you for their own purpose. They'll want to abuse your position here or take advantage of your good nature. When you find yourself out of your depth I know it's hard to know who you can trust. I'll give you one piece of advice." she paused, "Trust _yourself._."

"Myself?"

Alex nodded.

"Follow your gut instinct. If you trust yourself above anyone else then you can't go far wrong."

Simon nodded slowly. Alex spoke a lot of sense.

"Thank you," he whispered, "I think that was what I needed to hear.

Alex smiled.

"You'll be OK, Simon," she said, "just remember that. Oh, and err," she stood back up, "never forget the sugar. That's one thing we've both learned today."

* * *

Alex cursed herself for not stocking up on more of life's essentials, such as make-up, hairspray, eveningwear… It was one thing to have a nice bottle of red and a couple of cheesy mugs to drink it out of but a lack of beauty supplies could ruin her evening.

She'd tried to dress up the simple outfit she'd found in a second hand store with a sparkly belt and she'd done the best she could with her hair. For a split second she thought about calling Shaz to borrow some make-up and jewellery and then cursed herself for forgetting her friend was no longer there. It was the first time she'd made such a slip and couldn't believe how sad she felt.

She set out two plates on the small table in her lounge, dressed them with cutlery and napkins, then added the mugs beside a bottle of red wine. She didn't even let herself think about the fact that she'd purposely chosen red so that she wouldn't have to chill it. The less she had to visit Keats-Fridge, the better.

The buzzer rang which sent a jolt through her. Excitement? Nervousness? Anticipation? Yup, they were all there. She caught one final glimpse of herself in the mirror, smoothed down the sides of her hair and pressed the button on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"I hope you've got some sugar this time, Drakey."

Alex smiled. She pressed the button to let Gene in and waited by her front door. She spotted the giant bag of take-away before she saw any of the Guv himself. Opening the door she declared,

"Are we having a meal or stocking up feady for the millennium bug?"

"I hope that's not some kind of insect living you've got living in the kitchen with your rat," said Gene.

Alex stepped aside and let Gene pass through the door. She licked her lips nervously and cursed herself for waiting until Gene arrived to start the wine. She could have done with an alcoholic head start on the evening.

* * *

Simon sat in his new flat, staring at the TV set. He didn't even know what was on, the voices blaring at him just passed him by. His mind was in a mess. He thought over and over the events of the day. The strange man who he'd met twice seemed dark and full of hate which worried Simon, but he couldn't help but wonder just what Hunt had done to cause him such venom.

He wished he was a drinker. He'd be downing his third glass of the night by now if he was. He wished there was something that could block out the pain, the fear and the confusion as he tried to concentrate on the television screen.

When a slow knock at the door came, Simon's instincts told him who was waiting outside. He didn't need to open the door to find out. He considered not even answering it but there was a part of him that was curious. There was a part of him that wanted to find out more about the man in the coat who promised him what he wanted in exchange for the thing that went against his every moral.

When the knock came for a second time he gave in to his curiosity and hobbled across to answer the door. He wasn't surprised in the slightest to see Keats standing outside, leaning nonchalantly against the side of the doorway.

"What do you want?" Simon asked with a sigh, "I thought I gave you an answer earlier on."

"I really think there's something you need to see," said Keats, pushing past him and knocking the wobbly Simon off balance. He just about steadied himself in time and closed the door.

"This had better be good," he snapped.

"I don't think 'good' is the word I'd use but it's important," said Keats.

Simon tried to look as menacing as he possibly could on crutches and bearing three broken toes.

"I told you earlier I'm not interested in your deal," he said, "someone gave me a piece of very good advice earlier today. They told me to trust my instincts. And my instincts about you…" he shook his head, "they're not good."

"And what do these instincts tell you about Gene Hunt?" asked Keats, "Hmm?" he noticed Simon's hesitation. "Do you reckon he's a trustworthy man?"

"At least he doesn't talk in riddles," scowled Simon.

"I thought I'd been very clear," said Keats, "I want you to bring me Hunt's head on a plate. How literal or metaphorical you take that is up to you."

"I think you ought to go," said Simon.

"Do one thing for me and you'll be home, entering statistics on spreadsheets by noon tomorrow," Keats told him urgently, "you'll be back in your nice, safe world full of equality and technology with your iPhone and your laptop. The alternative…" Keats pulled a red and yellow object from within his coat and handed it to Simon who gasped in horror.

"_No," _he cried, "not a _Speak and Spell! _I hated those things! They were the epitome of bad technology!"

"Hunt's head on a plate, or a _Speak and Spell _in place of your iPhone for the next two decades. What's it to be?"

Simon shook his head.

"I might be a bit of a geek but I'm not a bastard," he said, "get out of my flat and take your Speak and Spell with you!"

"You haven't seen what I brought to show you yet," said Keats.

"You mean it gets better than the Speak and Spell?" Simon gave a bitter laugh. He watched as Keats pulled out a tape from the other side of his coat. "What's this? The advert for it?"

Keats ignored him, crossed the room and placed the tape into Simon's video recorder.

"You might want to sit down for this," he said.

Simon hesitated, then slowly did as Keats had instructed. He watched his unwelcome visitor switch the sound off on the television and waited for the picture to appear. It was fuzzy at first but soon cleared to reveal the images Keats had been so eager for Simon to see. There on the screen was Gene Hunt, just a few years younger than he was now. In what seemed to be a grim cell he punched a man so hard that he tumbled to the ground, then repeatedly kicked him. The man gave no fight. He didn't try to stand up or to hurt Gene in return. Blood began to flow.

"My _god," _Simon breathed, leaving closer to the screen. He felt violently sick at the sight on his television set. "What had this man done?"

"He was being held on suspicion of some jewellery thefts," said Keats, "but that's not why Hunt turned on the violence.

"Then why?" Simon trembled. Keats leaned in close to Simon and whispered to him. Just a few short words, but ones with such power that they made Simon retch and gag. They made his heart freeze for a moment before racing in his chest. They made him shake and tremble and brought a cold sweat to his brow. _"No_…. that's…. I can't believe that, even of Gene."

Keats rewound the tape and played it a second time with the volume up higher. This time Simon could hear every word from Gene's lips, every insult, every name, every slur. They cut Simon so deeply that he physically hurt from hearing them. Suddenly he was a teenager again, kicked to the floor in the playground, hearing insult after insult, name after name. A thousand awful memories came back as he watched Hunt delivering a punishment to a man he didn't know.

"Hunt's the old-fashioned kind," Keats told him, "unfortunately a lot of the higher-ups are old-fashioned too. That's why there's only one way to take him down."

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Simon flinched as he watched the final blow being delivered.

"You're right," said Keats, "they don't." He walked slowly to the doorway and opened it a crack before saying, "just one thought though… if Hunt's done this before, how can you be sure he won't do it again? For example, if he ever found out about your little… secret?"

Simon froze.

"How would he find out?" he whispered.

Keats gave a sly smile.

"I'm not very good at keeping my mouth shut," he said amiably. He hesitated. "Oh, and keep the tape - you might want to watch it again, just to be sure before you make up your mind."

Simon watched in fear as Keats left the building and closed the door behind him. He couldn't move for several moments and when he did it was only to rewind the tape and watch again in all its horror. The video couldn't lie. The man he was watching was the same who'd been making fun of his name for the last couple of days, the same man he would be working under for goodness knew how long. Would he be the same man who would end Simon's life?

He felt trapped and terrified, alone in a world where didn't belong. His instincts had deserted him. All he had left was one long, sleepless night ahead of him and an impossible choice to make in the morning.


	10. Chapter 10: Talking, Truth and Toilets

**Chapter 10**

Time passed and dinner was eaten. Polite conversation ruled the day as Alex and Gene skirted around the issue. When the food was almost gone and the wine was in free flow Alex asked,

"Shall I put the radio on?"

"I'm not dancing again," said Gene.

"Oh come on, we've got to enjoy the radio while we still can," said Alex, "within a year or two it'll be all Stock, Aitken, Waterman and novelty records. Your life will never be the same once you've heard Snooker Loopy."

Gene wiped his mouth with a napkin, laid it on the table and turned to Alex.

"I think it's time, Bols," he began, "we'll have to talk about this sooner or later."

Alex felt her heart leap into her throat.

"I know," she said.

"And you're going to have to help me out here because I'm not very good with," Gene hesitated, "with girly feelings and stuff like that."

"Delicately put," said Alex.

Gene cleared his throat.

"Right then," he said, "so, I've been married before. It wasn't the biggest success of my life. I didn't make the best husband and I don't want to go back there again."

Alex gulped involuntarily. Her mind was busy filling in the gaps. She hated being a psychologist sometimes. She could easily see what Gene wasn't saying. She wanted to make it easy for him, easier for both of them. Rather than leave Gene to reject her and for her to feel let down and empty she interrupted his flow.

"Here's my take on it," she began, "two people work very closely together for a couple of years. There's going to be some chemistry there and sometimes that can be confused for something more. Two people lose trust and work hard to build it back up again and in sealing the deal they get a little… carried away. But thankfully they are interrupted before they," she stammered, "before they m-make a mistake they regret. Then they have to part, and a kiss is a good way to say goodbye to someone you are very fond of… in a professional way… who you will never be able to see again."

Gene stared at her, slightly aghast.

"Is it my turn again now?" he asked.

Alex swallowed and nodded.

"Go on," she said.

"Well, here's my take on things," he began, "two people work very closely together for a couple of years. He wants to get close enough to see the label in her knickers, she starts to realise she can't resist his rugged good looks and charm. Two people forget they need to trust each other one hundred percent. They go out, get a little pissed, stop messing around and try to seal the deal," he scratched his head in annoyance, "until some _prat_ turns up with his holiday snaps. Meanwhile, the rugged, handsome one is waiting in 'er bedroom on a promise and getting bloomin' pissed off when she doesn't come back." He saw Alex looking a little sad and ashamed. "Then… then the two of them find out a lot of truths and he…" his voice started to choke a little, "he makes a big mistake. He thinks he needs to say goodbye. He realised he was wrong to keep the others with him for so long and didn't want to hold her back too. Because she…" he couldn't look Alex in the eye any longer, "she meant more to him than any of the others. One kiss was all they had time for. But if he could do it all again… Well, the outcome would have been very different."

He finally looked back at Alex. Her eyes were glistening with tears and threatening to spill over.

"That's your take on it?" she whispered.

Gene nodded.

"I'd like to hear a psychologist's point of view on that though," he said.

Alex's lips twitched into a smile. It had taken him a fair while to get that right. But it had taken them both a fair while to get something more important right. She leaned towards him slowly, reached out and placed her hand gently on the side of his face. She felt the warmth of his skin and the roughness of his stubble. They were very real sensations, no doubt in her mind. If she'd had any remaining doubts about the tangibility of this world they faded away in that moment.

She closed her eyes. She could feel his breath on her face as she moved closer. She felt her lips brush his so gently, then a little harder. Her head started to spin and her pulse began to quicken. Slowly their lips parted a few moments later. She opened her eyes and saw Gene lick his lips lightly, tasting her lipstick. She began to smile and blush.

"I think," she said quietly, "that your interpretation of events was almost a hundred percent spot on."

"Good," said Gene. He lifted his glass and took a sip.

Alex blushed and looked down at her hands with a smile. The silence that fell wasn't uncomfortable or awkward, it was natural; a silence between two people who knew each other so well that they didn't need to find words just to fill in the gaps. Eventually Alex looked back at Gene.

"I do have one question," she began, "if we both felt the same way about each other… then why did you give me such a chaste kiss when we said goodbye?"

Gene didn't know what chaste meant but he managed to hazard a pretty good guess.

"We had Jimbo perving over us from three feet away," he pointed out, "I'd do almost anything for you Bols, but nothing that would give him a lump in his trousers."

Alex gave a little smile and tried not to laugh.

"I didn't even notice he was there when you kissed me," she said.

"How could you miss him? His glasses were steaming up at the thought of it!"

Alex picked up her glass and took a sip, staring at Gene over the rim.

"So I suppose," she began, "there's one more thing to talk about."

"If it's the 'your place or mine' conversation then you have a distinct advantage," said Gene.

"No," said Alex, "it's where do we go from here?" she hesitated. "We've spent a long time skirting around the issue. Now it's out in the open…"

Gene shuffled.

"Feels weird, doesn't it?" he admitted.

"Yeah," Alex smiled shyly, "it does." She paused, "what you were saying earlier about Mrs Hunt…"

"Before you interrupted and got all psychological on me, you mean?"

"Yeah… If you weren't trying to tell me that you weren't interested in me then what did you mean?"

Gene sighed and downed the rest of his drink.

"Me and the wife…" he began, "we weren't good together. I loved her but she said I had a wandering eye…" he looked down, "maybe I did. She didn't understand the job was my life. It wasn't fair that she came second to that, I know that, but she just didn't _know_. You…" He looked Alex in the eye, "you _know_. You understand what it's all about. You believe in keeping the streets free from scum. You understand it's what I have to do, because you have to do it too."

Alex nodded.

"And I understand more than that," she said.

Gene nodded. She didn't have to elaborate. He knew what she meant. She was the only one who knew his past and the only one who could help him keep the memories in the present.

"I'm not an expert on relationships and all that romantic claptrap," Gene admitted, "but I won't hurt ya." He looked at Alex seriously. "Now, I don't know a lot of fancy words and sometimes I might be a bit rough around the edges, but I'll look after you, Bols. If you'll let me."

Alex gave a warm smile, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't feel she needed looking after if she was honest, but it was more than she'd ever been promised before. Gene made her feel safe. In this strange world where she'd been through so much the one constant was her DCI, her friend, and her hero.

"I think," she said quietly, "that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Gene frowned.

"'_Nice'_?" he cried, "I give you me speech, pour me heart out and I get a 'nice'?"

Alex beamed.

"OK, better than 'nice'. Wonderful, romantic, _fantastic, _everything I wanted to hear!"

Gene poured some more wine for them both.

"There's just one thing I want," he began, "…honesty."

Alex nodded.

"I agree."

"Things fall apart when we're not honest with each other," said Gene.

Alex nodded.

"I know," she whispered.

"And I know something's been bothering you today," said Gene. He saw Alex look down and knew he was right. "So what is it? What happened in your kitchen? Must have been a bloody big rat to make you act like that."

Alex took a deep breath. Her heart sank as she thought about the earlier events of the day.

"It's really nothing," she began to protest.

"_Alex…"_

"Look, Gene, I saw something, OK," Alex began quietly, "a vision of something unpleasant. It's not the first time, believe me since I came here I've been haunted by one thing after another; first clowns, then Martin Summers, then by…" she paused, "by you."

Gene looked at her seriously.

"What did you see?"

Alex pulled together as much strength as she could and made her face carefully neutral.

"A face in my fridge," she said calmly, "I opened the door to get the milk out and there was a head in there."

Gene's eyes bolted.

"Blimey," he began, "are you sure it wasn't an elephant?"

"Oh don't," sighed Alex, "I've been thinking of that joke all day." She took a gulp of wine. "See? That's why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd be like this."

Gene sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I just wasn't expecting you to say that, that's all."

"Well, it's not there any more," said Alex, "so just forget all about it."

Gene hesitated.

"And why was everyone depriving me of sugar earlier?" he asked.

"Maybe they don't want you to rot your teeth?" suggested Alex.

Gene wasn't so sure about that but decided to let it drop. He looked at his watch.

"It's getting late, Bolly," he said.

Alex began to feel a little nervous.

"Are you going to stay?" she whispered.

Gene hesitated.

"I already told you my position on pink girly sofas," he said.

Alex smirked.

"I was hoping for a practical demonstration of your position on pink girls sofas," she couldn't help commenting.

Gene hesitated for a moment.

"Wait here," he said, getting to his feet and disappearing into the hallway. Alex frowned, a little confused, then leaned back and unfastened the top three buttons of her blouse. Then she hesitated. Too tarty? Maybe. She refastened two of them and hesitated again. Not tarty enough? She called a compromise and unfastened one more.

Just then a red-faced and annoyed Gene marched back into the room.

"I'm sorry, Bolly, I have to go," he mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked in alarm.

"Nothing's wrong," Gene mumbled, "I just have to go, that's all."

Alex sat bolt upright.

"Why? What have I done?"

"Nothing, Bols, nothing, it's…" Gene put his hands on her shoulders, "it's not you, it really isn't, I just remembered that I was supposed to fill out some bloody paperwork and if I don't get it done before morning I'll be shipped off to the lost pet department." he grabbed his coat leaving Alex looking hurt and confused.

"Gene, you can't leave me like this," she cried.

"I don't _want _to," Gene sighed, "I'm _sorry._" he hesitated. "Tomorrow night. No questions, no problems, just me, you, bottle of bolly and a hotel room."

Alex glanced up at him.

"Really?" she asked.

"We've waited long enough for this," said Gene, "don't you think we deserve something better than some fumble on a frilly couch?"

Alex hesitated.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "we do."

Gene felt wretched and guilty as he knelt down and kissed her goodnight.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Drakey," he said quietly, "sweet dreams."

Alex felt confused and empty as she watched him leave. His sudden turnaround had been unexpected and she was no longer prepared for rejection. After all they had said just a few minutes before she thought she knew where the night was going.

Crossly she refastened her buttons, poured herself some more wine and downed it in one.

"Sweet dreams?" she said, "not much chance of that."

* * *

Gene cursed and swore to himself all the way down the staircase, out of the door and over to his car where he gave it a hard kick and set off his own alarm.

"You stupid, stupid, _stupid…" _he muttered, never quite finding an insult strong enough to finish his sentence. He threw his head against the dashboard. "Are you _so_ out of practice you can't even remember to bring the condoms, Hunt?"

He felt like slapping himself around a bit to drum some sense into himself. He couldn't believe they were still sitting in his desk drawer, mocking him, laughing at him. He knew Alex was a modern girl and wasn't going to go for it any other way. He'd felt proud of himself - if embarrassed - when he gathered enough courage to buy them (accompanied by six tubes of toothpaste and half the chemist's supply of fabric plasters to cover them up on the checkout). Now they were waiting in his drawer. They'd still be waiting for him the next morning, chirping "Ha ha, Hunt, you didn't get any last night."

"…_Prat!"_ he finally finished his sentence.

He rubbed his eyes. If it had just been the condoms that wouldn't have been so bad. But when he realised he hadn't brought them and visited Alex's bathroom to see if she had some tucked away in her cabinet he'd found a swirling Keats face staring at him from the inside of the toilet bowl.

"_Hunt…." _he'd hissed.

Gene had flipped. He knew he had to get out of there. He pulled the chain on the slimy man and made his excuses to leave.

"If I'd just brought the bloody johnnies…." Gene cried.

He knew he'd have some serious making up to do the next day and had no one to blame but himself - and the little rubber guys still locked away in his drawer.


	11. Chapter 11: A Present from Keats

**Chapter 11**

Simon barely slept throughout the night. He must have watched the video tape ten, twelve times at least. He watched every punch and every kick, heard every word and every sob. He'd gone to bed and tried to sleep but every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by the images he'd seen and the memories they brought back. He'd screamed, he'd cried, he'd begged a God he didn't believe in to get him out of that place.

He finally passed out around six in the morning and less than an hour later his alarm rang. He cursed and rubbed his eyes. His head throbbed and there was a brick of fear weighing heaving on his chest, making it so hard to breathe.

He felt as though he had switched to autopilot as he climbed out of bed, hobbled to the kitchen and made some breakfast he knew he wouldn't eat. He dressed, washed, cleaned his teeth and threw his breakfast in the bin. He pulled on his coat and prepared to face another daunting day. Then he saw the envelope laying on the mat.

Cautiously he walked across to it, picked it up with some difficulty and carried it across to the kitchen table where he sat down and opened it up where he found, to his horror, that Keats had left him a white, powdery surprise. He gasped and dropped it in horror before unfolding the note enclosed with it.

"_You know what to do," _it said.

Simon put his head in his hands. He was trapped in a hopeless situation and there seemed to be no way out. He glared at the package of powder as though he could make it disappear through the power of thought but nothing happened.

Slowly, shakily he reached out and took the package in his hand again. He turned it over and over. He remembered the tape, the violence, the terrible language. He remembered all the insults about his name and his iPhone. He remembered his strange passage into the world and his encounters with the man in the dark coat. He forgot his instincts, he forgot his conversation with Alex and he forgot - just for a moment - his morals.

Before he could change his mind he slipped the package underneath his coat. he breathed heavily and looked around as though someone might be watching. His heart thumped in his chest and rang in his ears. What was happening to him? This wasn't in his nature. But then again, his whole world had been turned upset down. Perhaps this really was his only way out. An escape route.

He gathered up his courage, got to his feet, grabbed his crutches and left the flat. He had no need to make a decision yet, he told himself. But just in case, he knew it was there.

* * *

Alex felt torn between bouncing off the walls and scowling as she arrived at work that day. The conversation she'd had with Gene the night before made her feel so alive, so loved, so excited but the moments that followed left her hollow and frustrated. She'd made sure she put extra effort in that morning. Every hair on her head was perfect. Not an inch of her outfit was out of place. She casually walked through the office, glancing around.

"Is DCI Hunt here yet?" she asked Malcolm.

Malcolm's desk was overflowing with paperwork.

"Not unless he's buried under here," he said.

Alex smiled.

"I think I'd better leave you in peace," she said.

A Gene-shaped whirlwind came blustering into the office,

"Right, what do we have today?" he asked.

"Everyone involved with the electronics thefts are in custody as of this morning," said Webber, "DC Kite is preparing to interview one of the suspects, as soon as DI Shoebury gets in…"

"That piece of lettuce?" huffed Gene, "might as well stick a salad in that interview room. Right, you get down there with DC Kite, break the buggers. DI Drake?"

Alex snapped to attention.

"Yes?"

"A word. My office."

Alex began to feel nervous as she followed Gene into his private space and watched him draw the blinds. What was the matter? What had changed since the night before?

"Gene, I…" she began.

Gene opened his desk drawer, removed a box and thumped it on the desk.

"I want these bastards arrested and charged," he said, "for interrupting a perfect night by evading the law."

Alex frowned as she stared at the box. She blinked a few times.

"Condoms?" she said quietly.

"That's what I get for trying to be one of those twentieth-century men," said Gene, "it's good to be prepared…" he paused, "just not so good when you're so prepared you forget how prepared you've been."

Alex smirked a little.

"Is this what last night was about?" she asked.

Gene rubbed his forehead.

"I feel like a complete and utter prat," Gene mumbled.

"You could have just said!" Alex stepped forward and touched his hair gently.

"I went to see if you had any in your bathroom," he said, "never even got as far as looking because there was something murky swimming in your toilet."

Alex made a face.

"Oh no, Guv, you didn't…." she dropped her voice to a whisper, "do a floater?"

Gene's mouth opened wide.

"No I did not, you cheeky mare!" he cried, "I thought I saw someone staring back at me. I think I'd had too much to drink… either that or your elephant story was getting to me."

"It was _not_ an elephant…" Alex started to protest but Gene shook his head.

"In any case… I'm sorry, Bols. Things didn't go how I'd planned."

"You'll do anything to escape my pink sofa, won't you?" Alex teased.

Gene scratched his head.

"I did mean what I said though," he began, "we'll do things properly. And no missing bloody rubber johnnies are going to spoil it this time." He grabbed them and prepared to toss them into the drawer but Alex stopped him.

"Uh… maybe I'd better look after these this time, hmm?" she asked.

As Gene threw her the box, the door opened and Malcolm peered in.

"Guv?" he began.

Alex blushed and frantically tried to hide the box under her jacket while Gene put his hands on his hips and scowled.

"Did I just _imagine_ having a conversation with you about knocking or am I just repeating myself? He asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Shoebury's fallen down the stairs," Malcolm apologised, "he's got a crutch lodged…"

"I don't want to hear the end of that sentence," Gene held his hand up.

"Poirot needs some help getting him up the stairs," Malcolm finished.

"Margaret Thatcher have mercy on my soul," sighed Gene, leaving the office with Alex in tow.

* * *

By the time they reached the staircase Shoebury was mobile again and starting to climb up to the top.

"I'm OK, I'm OK," he said crossly, "my crutch got stuck in the banister. That's all."

Gene raised an eyebrow.

"Well that was a less 'orrible explanation than I was expecting," he said.

Alex reached out to help the shaken Simon up the rest of the stairs.

"What on earth were you doing on the stairs?" she cried, "why didn't you take the lift?"

Simon shuddered.

"I went in there yesterday," he explained, "never again. It smelt like it was on fire, made a terrible noise too."

"So you don't do stairs, you don't do tea, what _can_ you manage, DI Shoebury?" asked Gene, "Oh, yeah - being the office _prat_."

Simon scowled.

"Why are you always being so…" he couldn't think of the right word.

"Honest?" suggested Gene.

"Bullish," Simon finished.

"You are _far_ too hard on him, Guv," Alex said quietly.

"Maybe if he gave me a reason to lay off him for a day I wouldn't have to be," said Gene.

Alex looked sympathetically at Simon.

"Will you be OK now?" she asked.

Simon brushed his dusty trousers down a little and nodded.

"Fine," he said bluntly.

"Right, well if I were you I'd go and sit down at your desk and spent the morning punching holes in paper," said Gene, "it's probably the most extreme activity we'll let you handle for the moment." he paused, "just try to keep your fingers intact."

"Come on, Gene," Alex pulled him away, "that is _enough." _

A glare was exchanged between Hunt and Shoebury that spoke of pure resentment.

"Fine," said Gene, "Let's go and see how Kite is getting on with the suspect. And let's hope this building is still standing when we get back." He shot one last glare at Simon and left with Alex following. She turned to look back at Simon, her brow folded with embarrassment at Gene's behaviour. She mouthed _'sorry' _to him before turning and following the Guv.

Simon spat on the floor. It was an action he could never have imagined doing before but it seemed fitting now. Gene was leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

With the office empty except for Malcolm, who was buried still behind his papers, he could feel the weight of possibility settle on his shoulders. Tired of the jibes and the bullying, sick of this strange world and desperate to get home again he reached into his coat pocket and closed his hand around the package. It almost burned him with its promise.

As fast as he could he crossed to the door of Gene's office, opened it and peered inside. He could almost taste his heart beating as it leapt into his throat.

"_Oh god, oh god, oh god…" _he whispered to himself as he walked around Gene's desk and opened the drawer. He slipped the package out of his coat and into the space that had been occupied by Gene's evil, plotting condoms just a few moments earlier, then closed it quickly and hobbled back out of the room.

He shut the door quietly, leaned against it for just a moment and began to breathe fast and heavily. Immediately he began to feel regret and anger toward himself for giving in to Keats' demands but it was too late now. He'd made the decision, he had to stick by it.

He tried to concentrate on the promise of home and getting back to the people that mattered to him. And anyway, this was all a dream, so no harm done. Right?


	12. Chapter 12: Not So Special

**Chapter 12**

Sweating and shaking.

They had become Simon's favourite pastimes over the last thirty-five minutes or so. Not that he was counting or anything. They were not pastimes he'd adopted on purpose, they just found him as he chewed his nails down to the quick. He couldn't believe what he had done, but when it came down to it he didn't believe _much _of what had happened to him in this place.

"_I'm just saying," _he heard Alex's voice approaching, "that if you wanted the guy to talk you'd have a much better chance if you hadn't stuck that phone in his mouth!"

"I was practicing irony," said Gene.

Simon quickly looked down at his imaginary paperwork, not daring to catch Gene's eye. He tried not to notice Alex crossing the room in his direction.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

He had to look up now she'd spoken. There she was, the friendliest face he'd seen and yet he could hardly bring himself to look her in the eye.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, "just not used to the crutches, that's all."

"Listen," Alex began quietly, "what DCI Hunt said to you… please don't take it to heart. I know that's easier said than done but that's how he deals with people. He's… he's old-school, it's how he gets things done, and although you might find it hard to understand right now soon you'll be wishing more people saw the world like Gene."

Simon gave a bitter laugh.

"Yeah."

Alex frowned. Simon seemed different somehow.

"Is there anything else wrong?" she asked.

"_I hope someone's bought some bloody sugar today_," Gene's voice cried from across the room causing Simon to bristle further.

Before anyone could give an answer to the sugar dilemma the doors burst open as though a tank was coming through and everyone turned to see Keats marching determinedly through the office, accompanied but an eight-strong team of armed men.

"_Tear the place apart," _he barked.

Alex turned to him, winded in fright. Her flashes and hallucinations came back to her in a moment and she gasped in sheer horror.

"_You," _she hissed.

Keats glanced at her with a smile.

"Don't worry yourself, Alex," he began, "it's not you I'm interested in today." He paused. "Not in _that_ way, anyway…"

Alex shuddered as Gene folded his arms and faced Keats head-on.

"You had better have one _very_ good reason for this," he cried above the racket, "because you have five seconds to explain exactly what you are going here before I pick you up by the collar and remove you from the place myself."

"I have a warrant to search…" Keats began, then stopped talking and smiled as he saw one of his men holding up a package in Gene's office. "_Oh_… it looks like I won't be needing the full five seconds after all."

Gene and Alex turned to see the man leaving Gene's office carrying a package of white powder aloft.

"_What the…?" _Alex whispered.

Gene looked aghast for a moment, then turned to Keats resolutely.

"I have _never_ seen that before in my life," he said.

"Well, I find that hard to believe," Keats raised an eyebrow, "since it was in _your_ office. No one else has use of your office, do they?"

Gene found himself lost for words. That wasn't something that happened regularly. He stared at the package, wishing it could whisper some answers to him somehow.

"_Someone_ is setting me up," he said eventually, "any idea _who,_ Jimbo?"

Keats just smiled.

"_I _don't need to set people up," he said.

"No, you just line others up to do your dirty work for you, don't you?" said Gene. He drew back his fist but eight strong, burly men jumped at him and held him back.

"Take him away," Jim said dismissively.

"No!" cried Alex, "you can't do this! That's not Gene's!"

Keats turned to Alex just for a moment.

"Maybe you still don't know as much about him as you thought," he said and turned to walk away.

Alex felt tears gathering in her eyes.

"I'll find out who did this to you, Gene!" she cried, "I'll get them! I'll set you free."

Simon had been watching in silence. The reality of his actions suddenly came crashing down around his ears. He tried to focus on the violent Gene he'd watched on tape, the Gene who'd cut him down with one insult after another, but his levels of guilt and regret were rapidly rising.

"He… he will be OK, won't he?" he asked quietly.

As Alex turned to face him Simon was horrified to see tears streaming down Alex's cheeks.

"Simon, I don't know," she whispered.

"Alex… are _you_ alright?" he asked nervously.

Alex slumped against the wall and slid slowly to the floor.

"No, Simon, no I'm not," she whispered, "Gene… he's all I have. He's the only one who looks out for me. And I'm the only one looking out for him. He's not just the Guv." She closed her eyes. "Keats… That _man…_ that vile man… I _knew_ he was coming back. I'd seen him… just in echoes and shadows, but I knew he'd be back to try again."

"Try what again?" Simon asked quietly.

"To bring Gene down," Alex whispered, "to bring us _all_ down."

"A-all of us?" Simon asked nervously.

"He wants to get rid of CID," Alex's speech was broken by tears, "he almost succeeded once before."

"He's just trying to get rid of corruption, isn't he?" Simon asked hopefully, "to make the force better?"

"He'd have you believe that in a heartbeat," Alex told him, "he's evil, pure evil."

Simon's heart was pounding.

"B-but there's two sides to every story though, right?" he asked desperately, "he just wants to get rid of people like Hunt… the violence and the bullying…"

"There's no other side to this story," whispered Alex.

"Why would anyone do this without good reason?"

"Why are you trying to justify Keats' actions?" frowned Alex.

"I'm not," protested Simon.

"Yes you…" Alex trailed off. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. "It… It was _you…._ it was YOU!"

"N-no…"

"I can't believe it!" Alex screamed, getting to her feet, "you planted that stuff in his office… you _bastard!"_ She lashed out and planted a hard slap across his cheek.

"I'm sorry!" cried Simon, clutching his throbbing cheek, "I'm _so_ sorry!"

"You DID do it!" Alex cried, "why? Why would you do something so… so abominable?"

"All Hunt's done since I arrived is insult me, bully me and call me names," Simon protested.

"Someone calls you names, you don't plant class A drugs on their office!" screamed Alex, "you have it out with them, man to man!"

"Keats showed me a tape of Hunt," Simon tried desperately to justify his actions, "he was… I can't even bring myself to say it… police brutality doesn't cover it…"

"You trust Keats?"

"He hasn't given me any reason not to!" Simon yelled, "he's the only one who understands! He's the only one who knows where I'm from!" He saw Alex give a sarcastic laugh. "He's the only one who's helped me, promised me a way home."

"He can't help you home!"

"He knows where I'm from, Alex! He knows about my iPhone, he knows about my family, he knows about the future. No one else here understands."

"Oh really?" Alex was almost spitting with fury, "you think you're the only one? What makes you so special?"

"I'm in some kind of… coma, some kind of dream."

"Well, welcome to the club," Alex said crossly, "yes, I know all about iPhones, about flat-screen plasma TVs, about digital television, laptops, DVD players, the internet… I've watched Big Brother and the X Factor and all kinds of programmes with BBC newsreaders skating or dancing or balancing on a tightrope." She managed to hold back enough not to let anything slip that she shouldn't but said enough to put him in his place about his part in the world. "Keats would have said _anything_ to get you onside. You were his best chance at getting to Gene and you've just handed everything he wanted to him on a plate!"

"Well maybe that's what I need to do to get home," Simon cried desperately, "you don't know it isn't. He might come good."

"He doesn't have any good _IN_ him!" cried Alex. She stepped threateningly close to Simon and hissed, "I really hope you realise what you've done. You've quite literally made a deal with the devil."

Simon panted with fear and regret as he watched Alex tearing out of the office in pursuit of Keats, attempting to find out where Gene had been taken. Could Alex be right? Had he been taken in by someone who just wanted to see the end of Gene Hunt and had no intention of fulfilling his side of the bargain? He thought once again about the tape and all he'd witnessed. He didn't like Gene, that was for certain, and he hated the way he treated others but was the man in the dark coat just as bad?

He put his head in his hands and began to sob. Loud, jagged sobs that were full of despair and remorse. Whatever he thought of Gene's methods, however scared his presence made him feel, Keats was no better. He'd been duped and now the one person he truly liked in this world was suffering for it. With no way to turn back time and no way to make amends all he had was his regret, self-loathing and solitude.


	13. Chapter 13: I Have A Life

-1**Chapter 13**

To Simon it felt as though hours had passed by. Alex's exit had only been about forty minutes before but the silence and solitude had stretched his perception of time. With Webber and Susannah still interviewing suspects and Malcolm unsure what had taken place he had no one to talk to, but no one to admonish him for his actions. He was busy punishing himself for them anyway.

He could only imagine the repercussions that would come. Alex would tell them the truth and he'd be arrested, or Gene would stay under arrest and someone, somewhere would come to take a less lawful revenge on him. He felt like a fool, a stupid, naïve fool.

He heard high-heels clip-clopping toward the office and looked up to see Alex arriving. Immediately he scrambled to his feet, hopped a little as his toes throbbed and steadied himself on the desk.

"Alex," he whispered, "what's happening? Did you find out? Did you see him?"

Alex couldn't meet his gaze.

"They wouldn't let me see him, wouldn't let me anywhere near him," she muttered angrily, "he's going to be interviewed within the next few hours but I think…" she hesitated and allowed herself to look at Simon long enough for him to see the hurt and fury in her eyes, "I think they want to do everything they can to destroy him. They've got him in a cell, no windows, nothing to eat, nothing to drink, urine on the floor, faeces all over the place and a big portrait of Keats on wall," she blanched, "which he painted himself."

"How do you know?" asked Simon, "you said you didn't see him, it might not be that bad where he's being held."

Alex set her jaw firmly.

"Because Keats had a video to show me," she said pointedly, "lovely, light hearted footage."

"Alex… I am so, _so_ sorry," Simon tried to take hold of her hand to show his sincerity but she pushed it away, "I was trying to survive. I was just trying to get out of this place. You'd have done it too… you _would_… if it meant you could go home. Right?"

Alex looked at Simon, her face gently falling. She recalled how close she had come to trusting Keats too, if only fleetingly. She thought about her desperate fight to get home to Molly. Her heart began to ache and the tears began to well in her eyes as she remembered once again that she could never get home to her baby. She felt such incredible anger toward Simon for what he'd done but there was a tiny part of her that understood.

"Simon," she said quietly, "what was the one piece of advice I gave you?" she paused, waiting for him to fill in the answer. When he didn't, she continued. "Trust your instincts. As desperate as you were to find a way home, please tell me your instincts about Keats at least were not good?"

Simon hesitated. He felt a lump in his throat.

"No," he whispered, "they weren't good. But I ignored them."

Alex nodded very slowly.

"Then at least you've learned something from this," she said, "the moment you stop trusting your instincts, you lose everything."

"Ma'am?" Malcolm held up a telephone receiver, "there's an urgent call for you."

Alex sighed and marched to take the call. Simon sank back into his chair and looked around the almost deserted, slightly trashed office. It seemed reminiscent of his emotions. He put his head in his hands and tried desperately to think of a way out of the situation, to put everything right, but without his iPhone he couldn't even download an app for that.

A few moments later a pale and shocked Alex walked slowly back to his desk.

"What is it? Simon asked quietly, "was it Hunt? Have they started questioning him yet?"

"No," Alex said quietly, "it wasn't about Gene. Not directly." She looked at Simon with surprise and bewilderment in her eyes. "I have to go out. I have a meeting."

Simon frowned.

"What kind of a meeting? Alex, what's going on?"

Alex swallowed.

"Gene's…. Gene's been removed from duty, effective immediately," she whispered, "they're appointing me acting DCI."

Simon's eyes opened wide.

"They are?" he asked. For all his regret about his actions and trusting the wrong person there was still a small part of him that felt like cheering at the prospect of Alex taking charge of CID.

Alex nodded.

"I… I don't know what to say. I don't think I'm ready."

"I'd be thrilled if I were you!"

"But not now… not like this," Alex shook her head slowly.

Simon hesitated. He looked at Alex's torn expression and chewed on his lip gently.

"My instincts," he began quietly, "say you'll be a great DCI."

Despite her anger towards him Alex allowed Simon the tiniest flicker of a smile.

"Maybe," she said quietly. She paused and sniffed. "I have to go."

"Good luck," said Simon. He held out his hand towards her and watched her hesitated. She looked at him, then at his hand. Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and gently shook it.

"Thank you," she said curtly.

Simon watched her leave the room, wishing that there was some kind of magic word he could say to make the situation better and take away the trauma he'd caused by trusting the wrong man.

"Abracadabra!" a cruel breeze flew into the office wearing a dark coat.

"You," hissed Simon, standing up.

"Just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done," said Keats, taking off his glasses and polishing them.

"You've got Hunt, now get me home," demanded Simon.

"Hmm?" Keats said distractedly as he continued to polish his spectacles.

"I did what you asked. I trusted you. I gave you his head on a plate. Now get me home." Simon looked at him crossly, "you are at least keeping your side of the deal, right?"

Keats looked at Simon for a very long time. He drew in his breath like a plumber about to charge a very steep rate for a very small job. He smiled.

"I'll tell you what. I have a better idea." 

Simon stepped back.

"Oh, _no, no, no, no," _he gave an angry laugh, "you made me a promise. I did what you asked of me, now get me back to two-thousand-and-ten."

"There's a new department," Keats began, "we're looking for modern, forward-thinking people like you. Hi-Tech crimes. We're starting to see an increase in crimes using technology… telecommunications… computers… hacking…. Software piracy…"

"Get me _home."_

"You'd be a shoe-in for promotion," said Keats, "you could be heading-up the division sooner than you can imagine."

"What kind of an offer is _that?"_ cried Simon, "in my time I'm already a DCI. I spend my _days_ tracking down hackers and hi-tech criminals! I have a great team, an office I love, a desk set-up with my photos and my computer and all my gadgets. I have a favourite restaurant, a horror movie collection, a guinea pig and monogrammed pyjamas. I have a _life!" _he trailed off and dropped his voice as his heart began to feel heavy. "I have a life," he said a little more quietly. "I have people I want to be with. I have a really comfortable bed. I go down to the newsagent on the corner every Sunday morning to buy the papers. I have my fifth anniversary coming up in two weeks' time. I have a school reunion next month. I have a life. I have a _life." _he looked at Keats with pleading eyes. "Please… Just let me live it again."

Keats gave a sigh. He shook his head slowly.

"You had your head smashed in by a great big box of circuits," he began, "that's not really conducive to any kind of 'life'," he stepped closer to Simon. "I'll tell you what," he gave him an amiable smile, "come with me now, you can start all over again. You can always buy a new bed and new pyjamas, you can't buy a new skull."

Simon swallowed so hard that Keats could hear him gulp.

"Are you saying," he whispered, "that I'm dead?"

Keats shrugged.

"Not if you join my team," he said, "come with me now. I can take you straight to the office, introduce you to your new colleagues, even take you down the pet shop if I have to."

Simon narrowed his eyes.

"No one can replace Mister Skiffles," he snapped.

"Skiffles?"

"My guinea pig."

Keats sighed and stepped back.

"Last chance," he said, holding out his palms, "this is the final call for your new life. Otherwise you'll find yourself in this," he wrinkled up his nose in distaste, "bigoted, archaic, oppressive world forever."

Simon swallowed and tried not to let Keats see him shaking.

"I'll take my chances," he whispered.

Keats stared at Simon for the longest time. Finally he made a very slow turn around and walked to the door almost as though he was in slow motion. He turned around and saw Simon glaring after him.

"Then don't call me," he said, "and I won't call you." he paused and gave a sneering laugh. "Oh, that's right, I forgot," he said, "you haven't got anything to call me _on_, have you, DCiPhone?"

Simon physically shook with anger as he watched Keats leave. The fury spread through every inch of his body. He screamed, he roared, he threw things as far as he could possibly throw them. He came within an inch of kicking the desk again but remembered what happened the last time and decided against it.

Just as he was about to throw a mug at the wall the radio on his desk began to crackle and hum.

"Alex?" Simon picked up the radio, thinking his new DCI had some news about Gene, but to his surprise an unfamiliar male voice replied.

"_Simon, we've tried to relieve the pressure on your brain."_

Simon froze. The radio felt as though it burnt his hands. He could do nothing but stare and listen as the words continued.

"_We've had to remove a piece of your skull. The swelling of your brain was more severe than we initially thought but the pressure will…. Ccczzzzzzffffff…"_

"Huh?" Simon shook the radio, "hey… come back, don't go!"

"_ffffzzzzzzttttt…. Will start to take you off the….. Cccczzzzzzzzz….."_

"No…. _no!" _Simon screamed, "come _back!"_

The radio descended into static, and then into silence as it lay dead in his hands. He felt his heart rate pick up and his palms began to sweat.

"I'm alive," he whispered, "I'm still _alive!"_ He slid down to the floor where he leaned against the wall, a grin spreading across his face. _"I'm still alive!"_

Keats had lied to him, again. He was still alive and someone was still fighting for him. And as long as someone was still fighting for him out there, he would keep on fighting in here.

"I'm _going _to get back home," he whispered, "whatever it takes. I'll find a way. And I don't need some twat in a coat to get me there."


	14. Chapter 14: No Butts

**Chapter 14**

Keats peered through the hole in the door at Gene as he sat defiantly on the hard bench, his arms folded and his expression resolute.

"I'd hoped for at least one swear word by now," he sighed.

The officer beside him closed the shutter.

"Do you want to leave him for a while longer?" he asked.

Keats considered.

"No," he said eventually, "I've waited long enough for this. It's like waiting until after the turkey's finished to open the Christmas presents." He gave a nod. "Get him ready for interview. Santa's on his way."

He started to walk away with a slight smile on his face. The only present Gene would find in his stocking that day would be oblivion.

* * *

Alex walked slowly into the office.

"How did it go?" asked Simon.

Alex looked at him, her eyes heavy and full of stress.

"Until further notice," she began, "I am the acting DCI. Gene has been suspended without pay." she sat down slowly, looking as fragile as a rose.

"Is there any more news on him?" Simon asked.

Alex shook her head.

"Not yet."

Simon bit his lip. He looked at her with remorse and guilt.

"Have you told them?" he whispered, "the truth about what happened?"

Alex took a deep breath. She let it out slowly.

"I wanted to," she said in honesty, "I came very, very close to telling them. And you would have deserved it if I had." She watched Simon hang his head. "I am very, _very_ angry with you and I am ashamed that I tried to help you fit in here. I must have misjudged you terribly to think that you were so innocent and that you needed protecting from the raw side of this place."

Simon gulped back some tears.

"So why didn't you tell them?" he whispered, "it's no more than I deserve. It will get Gene off the hook."

Alex hesitated.

"Something stopped me," she said, "I don't know what. Call it… call it an instinct." she rubbed her temples, "I didn't think anyone would believe me for a moment. I don't know for sure who is on side with Keats. If I came straight out and told them I knew you had planted the package they would have found a way to cover it up and I could be next on the hitlist. If I kept quiet…" she paused and blinked slowly. "If I keep what I know to myself then I have more chance of finding a way to get to Gene and get him back here, where he belongs."

Simon gave a slow nod.

"Thank you," he said, " for not telling them."

Alex looked away.

"I didn't do it for you," she said.

Simon looked at his hands.

"I know."

Alex glanced back at him. For all his regret and anxiety there was something different about him.

"Simon, has something… happened?" she asked, "something's changed. You seem…"

"Alive?" whispered Simon.

Alex frowned and was about to tell him that was a strange thing to say but when she thought about it that was exactly how he seemed.

"Yes," she said quietly.

Simon couldn't mask the smile.

"That's because I am, Alex," he said, "I'm still holding on." he leaned forward, his eyes flashing with life, "I got a message. It came over the radio. They've operated. They're trying to reduce the swelling on my brain. They're going to…" he trailed off, "well, they were going to do _something_ else but the message got cut off." He beamed involuntarily, "they're helping me. I'm going to wake up. I'm going to find a way out of here."

Alex gave him a sympathetic smile. She truly hoped that his wish would come true but she knew how fickle the line between life and death could be. Getting a message from home could give a world of hope but didn't always mean your return journey was imminent. Simon didn't need to know that though. For now it was best to let him keep his hopes alive. While he was still fighting from within… well, that was the best shot he had at life.

* * *

Gene wasn't used to sitting the other side of the interview room. He had never noticed quite how cold and unfeeling the walls were. Of course, that was how they were supposed to be but he was seeing them in a whole new light. In fact, he was seeing many things in a new light these days.

The door creaked open. He already knew who was going to enter.

"Jimbo," he sighed, leaning back in his chair, "I wondered when you were going to join me."

Keats closed the door behind him.

"Aw, did you miss me?" he asked.

Gene took a deep, loud breath.

"I want a lawyer present," he said.

Keats began to circle the table.

"No lawyers, Gene," he said, "no tapes, no witnesses, just you and me."

"In that case," Gene put his feet on the table, "I'm saying nothing."

Keats kicked his legs back to the floor and caused Gene to sit bolt upright.

"That would be obstructing the law," he spat.

Gene stared at Keats as though studying a science experiment. Finally he spoke again.

"I don't suppose I can smoke?" He gave a sarcastic laugh. "What am I thinking? I'll be smoking from head to toe if you send me where you want me."

Keats gave a false laugh and continued to circle the room.

"That's very amusing, Hunt," he sneered, "whatever you think I am, I think you underestimate me."

"Well, I _over_-estimated the percentage of you that was human," Gene folded his arms again.

Keats leaned in threateningly close to him.

"Cut me," he spat, "I bleed."

Gene sighed.

"So do I," he said, "the difference is, you probably collect yours up and drink it later."

Keats took a step backwards. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head.

"What, while you just turn to the bottle? Look at you, Hunt," he began, "what's happened to the almighty Manc Lion? Hmm? Locked away in a cell, dragged in for questioning. Where's your team? Where's your reputation? What's happened to The Guv?"

Gene rubbed his head.

"Are you still enjoying the basement, Jimbo?" he asked, "got enough pencils down there? Or have you lost a few of them up your backside? That would explain the way you walk."

"Why _is_ Alex back?" Keats sneered, "she walked into the pub, she should have been gone forever."

Gene felt himself choke on his words as he thought about Alex. He crumbled a little as he thought about her calling after him as Keats' men took him away. He thought about the night before and their admission to each other. He thought about the little rubber bastards he'd left in his desk and what he could have been doing if he'd only remembered to take them with him.

"Alex wasn't thirsty," he said, "she didn't fancy the house ale. Decided to stick around for a while."

"You really have her under your thumb, don't you?" Keats spat, "you've got her under your spell. Wouldn't even go to paradise because it meant leaving you. What _is_ she to you, Hunt? Why do you need to keep her around?"

"She makes her own decisions," said Gene, "and that's what's bothering you, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"She chose to trust me, not you. She decided to stick with her team, not defect to _your_ little _department._ You threw everything you had at her, tried to turn her against me, but in the end she knew where her loyalty was."

"She's under your power," said Keats, "you need her around so you've got a nice bit of skirt to look at and a brain to do the jobs your Neanderthal head can't cope with."

"Just because you've got more chance of pulling a penguin than a proper bird," said Gene.

"I don't _need_ to 'pull birds'," said Keats, "I don't have an ego that needs constant attention. I don't leave a trail of drool after me every time I see something with breasts."

Gene smirked.

"You can't even say 'breasts' without steaming up your glasses!" he said.

"At least I don't _have_ a pair," Keats resorted to playground bullying, prodding Gene in the chest. Gene glanced down.

"I'll have you know," he began, "that my pectoral muscles are the envy of Fenchurch East," he said.

Keats flapped around in his coat for a moment.

"This is just a game to you, isn't it?" he cried, "you think I'm here to exchange insults?"

"Well that's all you seem to have done so far," shrugged Gene.

"This is just the start," Keats leaned in close, "now you're locked away you've lost your power, you've lost your," he spat the word, "_team_, there's no one to stop me from transferring them."

"What, _downwards?"_

"You'll go to trial. The humiliation… oh, it'll be beautiful!" Keats puffed up his chest, "and your little sheep, Alex Drake, will have to watch every moment of it."

Gene got to his feet.

"Just leave her out of this," he spat, "she doesn't deserve to be dragged into your stupid games."

Keats took a step back, slightly scared by Gene's outburst and also amused to have provoked such a response.

"Well well, you do seem to be touchy."

Gene took a step forward, forcing Keats to back up further.

"Alex is the opposite of you in every way," he snapped, "she knows the kind of fire-eating scum you are and you won't get to her, not through me and not through any_one_ or any_thing_.

Keats started to feel nervous.

"Sit down, Hunt."

"Going to make me?" sneered Gene, "what, you and your overcoat?"

Keats raised his voice like a teacher attempting to get the attention of an unruly class.

"_Sit down now, or…"_

"Or what?" Gene forced Keats another step back, "apparently you've already taken away my freedom, my power and my team - there's not much left for you to _do_."

"Except Alex," Keats gave a sly grin.

"_Right,"_ Gene had heard far too much already. In one swift motion he thrust his head forward and made sharp, solid, forceful contact with the forehead of Jim Keats. The sound of their skulls meeting would be enough to make the hardest person retch and cringe. The force of the headbutt sent Keats' head hurtling backwards where it struck the cold, hard stone wall of the cell with the same force Gene had hit him from the front.

"_Ugh!" _Keats gasped involuntarily and the front and back knocks rattled his brain and sent him sliding to the floor in a barely conscious, concussed heap, his glasses broken in at least two places. The commotion brought officers in from outside who grabbed Gene's arms and cuffed them quickly.

"I wouldn't mind but I didn't even use me fists!" Gene complained.

He cast a glance back at Jim still laying on the ground with officers attempting to get him to stand up straight and a growing bruise appearing on his head. A small pool of blood where a sharp brick had cut his head appeared around him on the floor.

"_I told you I bleed," _Keats' voice came quietly from the cell as Gene found himself hurried away, followed by an evil, demented laugh.

Gene closed his eyes just for a moment, his head beginning to throb and spin. Yes, he'd probably made the situation many times worse but that head butt had been a long time coming.

"You'd better get a cup then," he called back, "collect it up before it dries. At least you won't go thirsty!"


	15. Chapter 15: Four Simons and a Lump

**Chapter 15**

Gene looked up as the door to his cell opened slowly and Alex's distressed face peered around.

"Bolly," he breathed, hardly believing she'd been allowed to see him.

Alex had a little smile on her face but it was one weighed down by anxiety and sadness.

"You do get yourself into some scrapes," she said quietly, "don't you, Guv?"

She glanced behind her at a stern-looking officer.

"You've got five minutes," he told her.

Alex hesitated.

"Aren't you going to close the door?"

"Prisoner turned violent earlier," the officer told her, "it's for your own safety."

Alex noticed Gene looked a little abashed at the mention of his earlier actions.

"Please yourself," she sighed, sitting down beside Gene. She leaned close to him. "You don't exactly make things any easier for yourself, do you?" she whispered.

Gene cleared his throat.

"Yeah, well, forehead that size, it was just begging to be butted."

Alex reached out and gently touched Gene's head where a bruised area was starting to show. He flinched and breathed in sharply.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"War wounds," Gene brushed it off.

Alex looked him in the eye.

"What war are we fighting here?" she asked, "is it against Keats? Is it for CID? Is it for our lives?"

"I don't know what he's up to, Bols," Gene admitted, "he's using a lot of big talk and not doing much to back it up."

"They called me in for a meeting," Alex began, "they've made me DCI."

"Blimey, the posh tart made good," commented Gene.

Alex gave a flicker of a smile.

"If that's your way of congratulating me then I'll take it as a compliment," she said.

Gene looked down for a moment.

"Try to find out how _official_ this is," he said the word 'official' like it had a bitter taste, "his interview technique left a lot of be desired."

"What else do you want us to do, Gene?" Alex looked at him intensely.

Gene wished he knew.

"Just fight," he said, "'cos that's what I'm going to be doing."

"Not with your head this time," sighed Alex.

"Well I can't use me bloody hands, can I?" Gene commented, "they've got me cuffed like a fool at a bloody S and M club!"

Alex gave him a gentle smile as the officer behind her barked,

"Time's up."

"Oh come on, that was nowhere near five minutes!" cried Alex.

"There's a call from CID for you," the officer told her.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"Oh for goodness sake, if you want me out of here just tell me, don't keep making different excuses!"

"Seriously, ma'am," the officer told her, "a DC Kite is calling. Says there's a concussed man in the office, trying to look up her skirt and singing a song about lifts."

"Wha… oh, just for once can something make sense?" Alex sighed. She turned back to Gene, cupped his face and kissed him gently on the forehead. "I'll get you out," she whispered, "I'll find out what's going on."

"I don't suppose you can get me a couple of aspirin can you?" Gene asked, "I have a spitting headache…"

Alex smiled and got to her feet.

"I'll keep on fighting," she echoed his instructions, "you'll be back in your office by tonight."

"I was hoping to be somewhere _else_ tonight," Gene commented.

Alex gave a sly smile and a blush.

"I'll see what I can do," she said.

* * *

"…_My lift goes down to the basement, my lift goes up to the sk-y-y-y-y-y, my lift goes down to the basement, so why don't you give it a try-y-y-y-y…?"_

Alex felt a headache coming on as she reached the office again. She had been in and out of CID so many times that day she had started to feel like some kind of shuttle service. After speaking to Kite on the phone she'd put two and two together and come up with a Jim Keats-sized answer. The concussion, coat and broken glasses were all pointing in one direction.

"Jim," she sighed, interrupting Keats' latest chorus, which DS Webber was trying hard to ignore.

Keats looked a little cross-eyed and woozy. He took a moment to focus on Alex, then moved across to her like someone on their seventh pint of the night.

"Ahh, Alex Drake," he began, "how lovely to see you again."

"Kindly stop pestering my team and get out," Alex snapped, indicating the direction of the door with her thumb.

Keats squinted a little and shook his head.

"Oh, no, no need to be so hasty," he began. He placed one hand on her shoulder in what was supposed to be a smooth move but managed to destroy his cool somewhat by accidentally poking her in the ear first. "We parted on bad terms and I think we should do something about that."

Alex folded her arms.

"Alright," she said, "how about you let Gene go, then take yourself to the nearest McDonalds and volunteer to test out the temperature of the grill with your tackle. That would be a _start_."

"You don't mean that," said Keats. He leaned in closer to her and could smell the perfume on her neck. "You smell good, Alex."

"Funny," Alex snapped, pushing him away, "all I can smell around here is a _rat_."

Keats opened the top button of his shirt and thrust his neck in her direction.

"Smell me!" he offered.

Alex brought up a knee and planted it swiftly in his groin, sending him slithering down to the floor with a painful whimper. She brushed her hair back and placed her hands on her hips.

"I would rather smell Shoebury's socks," she told him, "now get out before I have you _thrown _out."

Keats clutched his painful tackle and slithered across the floor until he regained the ability to stand and walk. He slowly got to his feet, the room still spinning a little, and tried to focus on the four Simons who seemed to be rotating in his field of vision like a strange Shoebury kaleidoscope.

At a snail's pace he made his way over to the collection of Simons which slowly focussed into one.

"What do you want?"

Keats gave an amiable smile.

"Can we renegotiate our deal?" he smiled.

"Only if the new version includes me shoving one of my crutches up your backside," Simon turned away from him.

Keats just carried on smiling and reached out to place a hand on Simon's arm.

"How about I transfer you today?" he asked, "I've seen you looking at my coat. I know you'd kill for one of these beauties. "

Simon's face creased up in confusion.

"What is that even supposed to _mean?"_ he cried, "what kind of department are you threatening to transfer me to? Crimes against _fashion?"_

Keats squeezed Simon's arm with a sly smile.

"Ooh, have you been working out?" he asked.

Simon grabbed a crutch and attempted to carry out his earlier threat but Webber approached and grabbed Keats roughly by the shoulders.

"You've already pissed off the DCI, the DI and the DC," he began, "are you going to try going for the full set or are you going to be a good boy and leave?"

Keats looked up at Webber and blinked.

"Actually," he slurred, feeling a little nauseas and dizzy, "I think I'm going to have a little lay d…."

Before he could finish his sentence he passed out on the floor, the concussion and groin pain finally getting the better of him.

The others crowded around and peered at him from above.

"Well well," Alex smiled, "I think the pressure has all gotten a little too much for Jim."

Susannah frowned.

"What's that lump?" she asked, pointing to his trouser pocket.

"'S'probably from feeling my muscles," Simon scowled, folding his arms.

Alex cautiously took a handkerchief from her pocket and used it to venture bravely into the depths of Keats' trousers, fearing some kind of plague might pour from within. She carefully gripped the item in her hand and pulled it out. As soon as the team caught sight of it a collective gasp rose.

"It can't be," cried Simon.

"I think you'll find it is," Alex's mouth twitched into a smile, "the stupid, concussed, delirious idiot has brought us back the 'evidence'."

"The way he was babbling he'd probably sampled it on the way," Susannah commented.

Simon felt his heart start to thump with hope and possibility.

"So what does this mean?" he asked, "what can we do from here?"

"Well," Alex licked her lips, "for one thing it means there's no evidence against G… DCI Hunt any more," she tried to keep her demeanour professional, "and for another it means we can send this to an independent lab and get some tests run."

"What kind of tests?" Malcolm joined the group.

"Hopefully," Alex began, "the kind that will absolve Gene of any guilt whatsoever." She took a deep breath, "and maybe help us get rid of the rat that just won't leave."


	16. Chapter 16: 1985, The First Time Around

**Chapter 16**

Simon sat thoughtfully at his desk, turning a pen over and over in his hands. He knew he had made a massive mistake in trusting Keats. He'd been desperate and would have done anything to get home to the ones he loved, but he knew that he'd done the worst possible thing he could have done. He was still a good man, he hated himself for what he'd done and he knew he would put things right somehow. He _had_ to. He just wasn't sure how he was supposed to go about it.

He looked at the blank spaces on his desk. Back home he had photos on his desk. The people in his photos filled his thoughts. He wondered what they were doing, whether they were sitting by his bedside, whether they were helping him to fight or giving up hope.

He caught sight of Alex walking across to him and put his pen down.

"What's the latest?" he asked.

"Webber and Kite have escorted the 'evidence' to a local lab that owes me a favour," said Alex. She sat beside him, "and Malcolm has accompanied Keats to hospital."

Simon gave a bitter laugh.

"I should have pushed that crutch in all the way," he spat. He looked at Alex sincerely. "I'm not a bad person, Alex, really I'm not."

Alex looked at Simon seriously. The guilt and regret on his face were beginning to eat away at the hope and positivity he'd gathered from his message from home.

"I know," she said with a tiny smile.

"I was wrong," Simon continued, "I'm not trying to justify what I did but… look at the evidence I had to go on - I was in a strange world, Keats was the only person who knew where I came from, he told me he could help me get home and he showed me some… some very valid footage to prove that Hunt… well, has done some very bad things in the past."

Alex licked her lips slowly.

"Gene is… no angel," she said, thinking her choice of phrase was perhaps poorly worded considering the nature of his world, "he is an old fashioned DCI and he has some methods that I certainly don't approve of, so I do understand where you are coming from. But he's _learned,_" she leaned close to Simon, urging him to believe her, "he's grown and learned from everyone he's met. From people like me. People like _you."_ she paused and touched Simon gently on his arm. "You can help him too. You can teach him about your own methods, about how things should be done. It will take some time for you both to work things out, to get over the initial… _difficulties," _she saw Simon give a slight smile, "but you will. You'll become a team."

Simon closed his eyes for a moment.

"I doubt it," he said, "as soon as they examine the package they're going to find my fingerprints all over it…"

"We'll tell them you were the one who found it in his pocket," Alex began but Simon cut her off.

"…And when they _do,"_ he began, "I'm going to tell them it was me."

"What?"

"I'm holding my hands up," said Simon, "that way Hunt will have to go free."

"Simon, we already established that you need to keep quiet…"

Simon shook his head.

"That was before _we_ were the ones with the evidence in our hands."

Alex shook her head slowly.

"If you hate Gene so much then why are you prepared to give up everything to set him free?"

"Because," Simon began honestly, "it's nothing compared to how much I hate _myself_ for what I did."

Alex's heart fell for Simon. She understood that he'd made a desperate mistake and as angry as she felt about it she couldn't guarantee she wouldn't have done the same if she'd met Keats before she grew close to Gene.

"I think," she began sincerely, "that you are much braver than you realise."

Simon looked down.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"I mean it," said Alex, look at what you've been through since you arrived. And here you are, prepared to do the right thing, even after everything."

Simon glanced at Alex and saw she was sincere. He gave a slight smile.

"Thank you," he said sincerely and leaned forward to plant a friendly kiss on her cheek but Alex drew back.

"Simon, what do you think you're doing?" she cried.

Simon looked a little taken aback, not sure what he was supposed to have done wrong.

"I was just showing you…"

"I'm… I'm really flattered," Alex faltered, "but I'm already spoken for," she swept her hand through her hair with a blush.

"Oh, God, _no_ Alex," Simon drew back, turning slowly the colour of a tomato, "no, I wasn't…"

"It's OK, it's OK," Alex held up her hands, "you're tired and you're stressed."

"No, honestly," Simon held his hands up in return, "I was only trying to say thank you! It was just a friendly gesture! I guess I'm just used to," he stopped mid sentence and closed his eyes. "Doesn't matter."

"What?"

Simon shrugged.

"I just didn't mean it that way. That's all." he looked down and picked up his pen, anything to distract himself from his embarrassment.

"Just as long as you didn't think we could," Alex began, "_be romantic_." She cringed at her clumsy words. She felt ashamed at her overreaction.

"Honestly," Simon flushed, "I was trying to say thanks for being a friend. That's all it was. No offence, but you're not really my type."

Alex bristled. Despite not actually _wanting_ to be his type she was still a little offended.

"Oh," she said curtly, "good."

"And it's not like I haven't got someone waiting for me at home," Simon continued, unable to stop a tear forming in the corner of each eye.

"Oh?" Alex looked at him properly now. He had her attention suddenly. He hadn't mentioned a girlfriend or wife so she'd assumed he was single. In fact, she knew little about him except for his love of iPhones. It was nice to know there was a human side to him too. "That's nice."

"Not when I'm stuck the other side of my own mind," Simon said quietly.

Alex swallowed. She remembered Molly and how painful it was to be separated from her little girl.

"No," she repeated, "missing someone you love is hard." She tried to put on a cheerful face. The last thing she wanted to do after causing such an overreaction was bring Simon's spirits down even more. "So tell me about her," she said. Simon gave her a sideways glance, "what's her name? What's she like?"

"Robin," Simon said quietly.

"That's a pretty name," Alex gave a gentle smile.

Simon gazed at his hands.

"You know when you meet someone who makes your legs turn to jelly and your head just spins whenever you're together?"

Alex nodded.

"I do," she said.

"That's how Robin makes me feel."

Alex nodded slowly.

"What does she look like?" she asked.

Simon bit his lip.

"Tall," he began quietly, his voice quivering just a little, "dark hair, the deepest eyes," he paused, "and just enough of a beard to leave my face tingling every time we kiss."

Alex choked and spluttered on air as she watched Simon reach up and touch his own face involuntarily at the memory.

"Has… has she ever considered electrolysis?" she asked. She looked at Simon sincerely and sighed. "You could have told me, you know," she whispered, "you could have said that you were gay."

"It's that easy is it?" Simon couldn't bring himself to look at her, "you go from a world where finally you can walk down the street holding hands or marry the man you love into one where homophobic slang is thrown around twenty-four hours a day and a DCI can kick a man into a pool of blood because he prefers other guys?" He hung his head. "This is the eighties. Why and how I'm here, I don't know, but I do know it's not a very friendly place for me to be."

"But you could have told _me,"_ Alex insisted, "I know how hard it is to miss somebody. You must be going crazy away from Robin."

"I miss him," Simon fought back tears, "I miss him a lot. And I miss the freedom to be myself." He looked at Alex. "Keats… last night he came to visit me. He brought me the tape."

"Of Gene?"

Simon nodded.

"He told me it was important and I needed to see it. He played it to me mute at first. It was awful, Alex." He flinched at the memory, "he punched this guy down to the ground, laid into him, kick after kick after kick." He could see Alex's expression change. For as much as she loved Gene, there were some aspects of his past and his methods that made her uncomfortable. "I couldn't believe it. I thought this man must have done something awful. Child abuse, murder, rape, that kind of thing. It turns out it wasn't the crime Gene was punishing him for. I asked Keats what he'd done that was so bad. He leaned forward and he whispered something to me."

Alex could imagine the next part of the story, as much as she didn't want to hear it.

"Go on," she whispered.

"He said," his voice choked, "…he said, _'Hunt hates dirty queers.'_"

Alex closed her eyes slowly and let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

"Oh, Simon," she began.

Simon couldn't look up. He was worried about showing his fear and upset if he did.

"He made it quite clear that he'd have no problem telling him about my sexuality if I didn't set Hunt up," he said quietly, "and that if he treated a suspect like that then how could I be sure he wouldn't do the same to me?"

Alex looked at him seriously.

"Simon, look at me," she urged. Slowly he turned his face to look her in the eye. "I don't know what Keats showed you but Gene isn't like that any more. How old was the tape?"

Simon shrugged.

"I couldn't tell," he said, "I guess he looked a bit younger. Didn't look like this place, could have been another station."

"Gene has changed," Alex told him, "remember what I was telling you about how we have all helped him to learn and grow? He might not be joining you on a pride march any time soon but he would _never_ do to you what Keats was suggesting."

Simon shook his head slowly.

"All he's done since I arrived is take the piss," he said, "if it's not my name then it's my foot or my iPhone. I can't go through another round of homophobic bullying on top of that. It's not like it is back home. An openly gay officer here?" he sighed and shook his head.

"Things are changing," Alex urged him, "at this time, things are starting to come out into the open. You'll find people more accepting."

Simon gave a bitter laugh.

"Nineteen eighty five?" he said, "you have to be kidding! People are just getting a bit more vocal about it, that's all. Then there's the whole AIDS thing… soon as someone finds out you're gay in the eighties that's the first thing they say."

Alex bit her lip.

"What happened to you, Simon?" she asked gently, "in nineteen eighty five? The first time around, I mean?"

Simon felt choked. He could hardly breathe. The memories were suffocating him.

"I… I could only have been seven… maybe eight at a push," he whispered, "It wasn't as though I was a hormone riddled teenager but I just knew I was different. I had little crushes on TV characters. Just for fun. Unfortunately they were," he took a deep breath, "not female. I didn't know what the word 'gay' meant. I'd never even heard it, unless it meant happy. I didn't know there was a word for what I was, I just saw all the families on my road and knew I didn't want to marry a woman when I grew up."

Alex reached out and put her hand on his arm.

"Go on," she whispered.

Simon swallowed.

"I didn't know it was 'bad' to say that," his voice was quiet and measured, "one night I was at a friend's house, staying the night. I just told him that I wanted to marry a man when I grew up. I didn't think anything of it. I was only a kid." He couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his face now, "I was just a _kid…"_

Alex reached for a handkerchief and handed it to Simon, neglecting to mention it was the same one that she'd used to root around in Keats' pocket. She looked at him with tears in her own eyes.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"He was a couple of years older than I was so I suppose he knew more about these things than I did. He told me I was going to go to hell."

Alex flinched. Thanks to Keats, Simon very nearly did.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"The next day it was all round the school," he whispered, "my so-called friend put it all around the playground. He'd told his brother, who was in my class. They started rumours that I'd tried to kiss him. At the same time the news was full of information about HIV and AIDS and scary public information adverts were all over the place. Kids don't 'do' logic. They put two and two together."

Alex was surprised to feel a tear fall from her own eye.

"Simon, I am so sorry," she whispered.

"I spent the whole of my school life as _that kid_ who was always being kicked to the floor of the playground, the one talked about in graffiti all over the toilets, the one who'd have _'queer' _scrawled all over my books and bag by the bullies. I wasn't strong enough to fight back, so I just…" he shook his head slowly. "I just took it."

"I am so, so sorry," Alex couldn't think of anything else to say, "Simon, life is _terribly_ unfair."

"It got better," he said quietly, "when I went to university I started to feel like I could finally be myself. I made friends, started living my life the way I wanted to and I met," his lips twitched into a smile, "…I met Robin. We were friends for a long time before we started going out. But sometimes that's the best way. What's better than falling in love with your best friend?"

Alex gave a genuine smile. That was a sentiment she identified with.

"Simon," she said quietly, "whatever you have been through, you are a strong person now. You didn't let them win." she looked at him sincerely, "and you won't let them win now. Whatever you decide to do, whether you want to keep your private life private or to get things out in the open, you have a friend who will stand by you."

Simon gave her a grateful smile.

"Thank you," he whispered. He brushed his damp face roughly with his sleeve. "you know, if we ever get back to our time we should keep in touch. You can meet Robin, go for a meal. Add me on Twitter… I'm simonshoebury there."

Alex gave a very sad smile. She knew she at least would never be able to get home and add Simon on Twitter or any other social networking site, let alone go for a meal.

"I'll do that," she whispered. She held out her hand to shake on their friendship, a gesture Simon warmly accepted.

"Thank you," Simon said sincerely.

Alex shrugged.

"What for?" she asked.

"For being the kind of friend I wish I'd had in nineteen eighty-five," said Simon, "the _first_ time around."


	17. Chapter 17: Going Underground

_I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed Out of the Window so far, especially the previous chapter. It became semi-autobiographical, I hadn't intended it to become so personal but it happened naturally. It was a very difficult chapter to write, especially to hit the right tone. I really appreciate all of your feedback, and I'm glad you're enjoying reading as much as I am enjoying writing._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 17**

Simon splashed water onto his face to wash away the tears and the anguish. He hadn't revisited that part of his past for many years. Confronting those memories after such a long time had shaken him deeply. When it came down to it he still felt like that little boy hearing a hundred horrid names as boots thrust into his ribs. He looked at himself in the mirror as the water dripped from his chin and his nose. His eyes were still a little red but his expression was neutral.

He wiped his face with a slightly dubious towel that hung under some graffiti that went into graphic detail about what Keats likes to do with live lobsters and hobbled back to the office. He found Alex still sitting at his desk and sat down beside her.

"Feeling any better?" she asked.

Simon nodded.

"A bit," he said. He looked around. "Any news from the lab yet?"

"Not yet," said Alex, "Simon, listen, I am really not sure about you coming clean."

"It's the only thing I can do to make amends," Simon gave a deep sigh.

"I'm worried about what will happen to you," she began, "if you're worried about being in the force in the 80s then how will you cope with prison?" She watched Simon look down, out of answers. "We need to come up with a way of not only getting Gene out of prison but getting rid of Keats for good, otherwise he'll just keep coming back for more."

"What do you think he'll do?" Simon asked quietly.

Alex shook her head.

"I don't know," she said quietly, "he could go after one of the others. Might try to expose Malcolm's weakness or try to turn Susannah against the rest of us, We might keep getting white, powdery surprises or find ourselves with stolen goods in our cars. I just don't know. He's unhinged."

"If Keats tried to tackle Hunt the 'legal' way by putting him in prison can we do the same to him?" Simon wondered.

"Have him arrested?" asked Alex, "he'd find a way out of it."

"He's tried to have Hunt put away by the book," said Simon, "he won't have a leg to stand on if we 'find' something against him." he looked at his injured foot. "No pun intended!"

Alex smiled and gave a slight chuckle.

"Perhaps it's time Jim ended up with a little white, powdery present too," she said.

"You're even starting to sound like DCI Hunt now," said Simon. He paused. "He probably already has a supply of his own tucked away somewhere. Actually, thinking about it…"

The phone on Alex's desk started to ring.

"Hold that thought," she said, getting to her feet and answering it.

Simon scratched his head. He was doing more than holding the thought, he was growing it in his mind like an amusingly-shaped vegetable. If Keats could get hold of a large amount of an illegal substance just like that then perhaps there was more of it. Perhaps there were a whole range of illegal substances and items tucked away somewhere that he kept for just such an occasion.

He'd heard the others talking about an office in the basement where Keats had set up base and lined up a lot of pencils. He didn't know where it was or how to get there but he couldn't help wondering what he would find.

Perhaps there was a way to make up for his mistake after all.

* * *

Alex didn't notice Simon sneaking out as the phone call kept her attention focussed, nor did she notice Malcolm arriving back at first. Her face was full of joy and delight, her smile growing wider with every passing moment. For the first time since Gene's arrest she felt relief and excitement. Eventually she put down the receiver and silently thanked whoever was listening out there.

"What's the news?" asked Malcolm.

Alex glanced around.

"Oh! I didn't see you there," she said apologetically, "that was DS Webber. The lab pulled every finger print off of both the inside and the outside of that package. The only prints they found were Keats' and," she dropped her voice slightly, "and Simon's… he touched the package by mistake before it went to the lab."

"Does that mean DCI Hunt is off the hook?" asked Malcolm.

"He should be free within the hour," Alex beamed.

"What's going to happen to DCI Keats?" asked Malcolm.

"I'm heading straight to the hospital to give the poor concussed bastard the good news right now," Alex swept her hair back, "and to slap a pair of handcuffs on him."

"You'll have a job," said Malcolm, "he discharged himself. That's what I came back to tell you."

Alex sighed.

"Oh _great," _she commented, rolling her eyes.

"We couldn't keep him there against his will," said Malcolm, "there was nothing to charge him with at the time."

"No, I know," said Alex, "what kind of state is he in?"

"Slightly more coherent," said Malcolm. He scowled, "although he did call me Cheeky-Chops and slap me on the arse before he left."

"Any idea where he was going?" asked Alex.

"He said he had to go and sharpen his pencils before inserting them into some," he blushed, "_unmentionable orifice _of DCI Hunt's."

"He'll probably be on his way back to his office ," Alex pondered, "perfect. Let's pay him a visit." She glanced around. "Where's Simon? He won't want to miss this."

Simon's desk was empty, except for a note propped up with Alex's name on it. She wandered across, lifted the paper, opened it and read;

"_Gone to see where Keats keeps the rest of his unwanted presents while he's still seeing stars."_

"Oh my god," Alex whispered quickly.

"What's wrong, Ma'am?"

Alex handed him the note.

"Simon's gone to look for evidence in Keats' office, right where he's heading now," she said hurriedly.

"Even with crutches I'm sure he can look after himself," said Malcolm.

"I don't think you understand," Alex shook her head, "imagine Satan. Now imagine Satan angry, concussed and finding someone poking about in his office." Her head was in a spin. "Malcolm, Call the lab, if Webber and Kite are still there tell them to get over here ASAP. When Gene gets back tell him the devil's got the shoe-shop man!"

Before Malcolm could ask her what on earth was going on she raced from the office on a quest to find the basement, not wanting to think for a moment about what she would find when she got there.

* * *

The door to the basement was unlocked and Simon wasted no time in hobbling inside. He switched on the light but it didn't make a lot of difference. The room was hot and musty, with a strange smell that made him wrinkle up his nose and cough once or twice. He gently closed the door behind him and wondered where to begin.

The first place he tried was Keats' desk. There were a number of pencils, a sandwich and a copy of _Trench Coat Monthly _lying on the top which didn't impress Simon very much. He flicked idly through the magazine in case any clues were to be found inside but the only thing of note was that Keats himself had managed to score _Letter of the Month_ with a witty piece about the place of the trench coat in modern society.

He tried the drawers next. The first one was locked so he tried the next one which opened to reveal some more pencils. He tried the third drawer and found a lot of files. He was about to move back to the first drawer and find a way to prise it open when he noticed that the top file had a familiar name on it.

"_Kite?"_ he whispered, opening the file to find a picture of Susannah inside. He quickly skimmed through the file, then began to work his way through the others. Webber was next, then some unrelated file about how to crochet your own helmet, and the one thing he hadn't expected to see; a file with his own name on the front.

He took a deep breath. The file almost burnt his fingers. He didn't know what he would find if he opened it up but he didn't know if he could bring himself to put it back without at least peeking. Eventually curiosity got the better of him and he peered inside.

It seemed to contain a mixture of information; some about his life in the present and some about his life in the past. He began to shudder. Were his past and present selves converging in Keats' file? Would the same happen to him somehow?

The sound of footsteps coming closer caused Simon's heart to skip a beat in fear. He slammed the files back into the drawer, pushed it closed and looked around frantically for a place to hide.

He limped across to a filing cabinet and slipped around the side of it where he tried to slow his breathing and keep calm. The door slowly opened and the sound of shoes on the hard floor echoed around him. He pleaded silently with something, with the air, with the universe, with Keats himself - anything at all, that he would remain unseen. The footsteps stopped and there was a moment of silence. Simon could almost hear the sound of his own heartbeat as he waited for the footsteps to disappear again or for someone to speak.

Finally he heard someone taking a deep breath, the kind that came before an important speech.

"_When you attempt to hide in someone's office," _It began, _"it's good practice not to leave one of your crutches leaning against the desk."_

Simon's whole world stopped spinning in that moment.


	18. Chapter 18: You Have 8 New Messages

**Chapter 18**

Simon breathed heavily. He made a fruitless wish that he hadn't heard the voice or been discovered and knew that was a wish that couldn't come true. The encroaching shadow and strong scent of aftershave reminded him that he'd been well and truly caught hunting a rat. He closed his eyes. He'd lost so much of his wit and nerve since ending up in this strange place. He couldn't believe he'd made such a stupid mistake and cursed himself silently.

Eventually he opened his eyes and slowly turned his head until Keats came into view. He looked a little better than he had when Simon last saw him except he now had a thick, white bandage wrapped several times around his forehead. It put Simon rather in mind of Mr. Bump.

"_Simple Simon," _Keats began, "_met a pieman _… how does the rest of that rhyme go?" he paused for just a moment. "I don't suppose it matters. It's not a pieman you've met, is it?" He gave a cold smile that made Simon shudder to the bone. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? It can't be a social call. If it was you wouldn't be hiding round the side of my filing cabinet."

Simon took a deep breath and tried to stop himself from shaking.

"I came to talk to you," his voice wavered slightly, "about your offer. I changed my mind."

"Oh, really?" Keats raised an eyebrow so high it practically popped out from above his glasses.

"I was thinking about your new department," he said, "I'd like to join."

"That was a one-time only offer," said Keats, "why are you really here?"

"I told you, I want out of CID. I want to join your department."

Keats grasped Simon's arm and hauled him sharply to his feet then pressed him up against the wall, one hand around his throat.

"Tell me again why you're here," he spat, "and this time make it more convincing."

Simon gasped as Keats made the struggle to breathe harder and harder. Finally he gave him a sharp push backwards and freed his windpipe. Rubbing his neck, he spluttered a little and looked angrily at Keats.

"You're no better than Hunt," he spat.

"Wrong answer," said Keats, "try again."

He made another lunge for Simon but narrowly missed as his target ducked.

"You're no better than Hunt." he repeated, "in fact, you're worse because at least what _he_ does he believes to be right. You do things for the sake of doing wrong."

"So I take it you've changed your mind about joining me?" Keats asked sarcastically.

"I wouldn't join you if you were offering tickets to Trenchcoats on Ice!" cried Simon, "Excuse me."

He tried to leave but Keats blocked his path and began a childish game, stepping from side to side at the same time as Simon so that he had no chance of passing. It was the stuff of the playground.

"So tell me, Simon," he began, "what are you going to do? Stay in nineteen eighty-five, take abuse from DCI Hunt, wait for your friends to find out you've got an _'occupied' _notice over your arsehole? How are you getting on with your Speak and Spell by the way? Started weight-training with your mobile phone yet?"

Simon shook his head.

"I'm not staying here," he said, "I'm going home." He saw Keats give a sudden laugh. "It's _true_," he cried, "I had a message from home…"

"A message from home?" Keats laughed, "really, how much do you think that means?"

"They've relieved the pressure on my brain," said Simon.

"They found a _brain?"_

"And they're working to save my life!"

Keats sighed and shook his head.

"Messages from home," he began, "rarely mean anything. If you want messages…" he strode across to his desk, slipped a key from his pocket, unlocked the drawer and pulled out an item.

"My _iPhone!"_ Simon breathed. He reached out for it but with an injured foot and his crutches out of reach he didn't get anywhere near close enough. "How did you get this?"

Keats shrugged.

"The _how_ doesn't matter," he said, "the important thing is that it's here and you have messages. Do you want to hear them?"

Simon swallowed hard but he couldn't get rid of the lump in his throat.

"Yes," he whispered so quietly Keats had to read his lips to work out his answer.

"Alright."

Jim fiddled with the phone for a moment, then held it up as the messages played over the speaker.

"_You have eight new messages," _a recorded voice began, _"First message:"_

Simon braced himself. His heart beat so fast his chest almost throbbed.

"_Hey you!"_

Tears filled Simon's eyes.

"Robin," he whispered.

"_Just checking you're coming round mine tonight. We've still got that Boy George thing from the eighties season Sky Plussed to watch. Pizza or Chinese? You choose! See you later!"_

"_Message two:"_

"_Hi, Si, it's Elaine," a cheerful female voice began, "it's dad's birthday next week and we still haven't thought of anything to get him. What do you think about power tools? Anyway, give me a call when you get this. Bye"_

"_Message Three:"_

"_Mister Shoebury? The guinea pig calendar you pre-ordered is in stock. You can pick it up whenever you're ready."_

"_Message Four:"_

"_Sir, where are you? They're going to let Flint walk if you don't get down here within the hour. No one can find you… we're doing our best but we need you."_

"_Message Five:"_

"_Si? I'm worried about you. I haven't heard from you all day, you're not answering your phone, you haven't picked up your emails… you were supposed to be here ages ago. I'm… I'm really worried. Please, call me? Love you."_

"_Message Six:"  
_

"_Si… I don't know why I'm doing this," _it was Robin's voice again but this time it was broken with tears, _"I just feel like I can talk to you better this way, not sitting next to your bed while you lay there so still. This is how I always think of talking to you… you're always on that bloody phone of yours… at least it's usually to me." _There was a pause. _"I'd be calling you around this time, asking you if you were coming to mine or I was coming to yours. I… I guess I'm going to be going to yours tonight, huh? Please… please hold on. I love you."_

"_Message Seven:"_

"_Si, it's me. Your sis. I… Robin told me he left a message for you. He said it really helped. I thought I'd try because it's getting so hard to see you laying there. I keep expecting you to answer me back and when you don't…" there was a sigh on the line, "so I thought I would call you. I miss you. We all miss you. Please, bro, wake up soon? Love you."_

"_Message Eight:"_

"_Simon," _Robin's voice was quiet and broken, _"they say your signs are getting weaker. They've done everything they can but you're not responding the way they were hoping. Your father's coming down today. He's going to talk with your doctors about the… the level of brain damage. They think your brain might be too badly damaged for you to breathe on your own. The machines… they're keeping you going for now, but…" _the message went quiet, all but for sobs which Simon echoed. Eventually Robin's voice came back on the line. _"I'll look after Mister Skiffles for you. I promise. Goodbye, Simon. I love you."_

"_End of messages. To replay…"_

Keats switched off the phone as Simon slid tearfully to the floor, his head in his hands.

"I'm dying," he whispered, "and they've all given up hope."

"You've got no way out," said Keats, "you're stuck here. No way back." he gave a smug smile. "Maybe you _should_ join my team after all. You have nothing else to look forward to."

Simon choked back sobs of despair.

"I have nothing anyway," he whispered.

"If you join me," Keats began, "you'll have _plenty._ Better pay, first dibs on new technology, heading up an investigation into prejudice against homosexuality in the Met. There's a whole world waiting for you. And best of all, you won't remember any of this."

Simon looked up at Keats, his eyes red and watery.

"No?"

"None of it," hissed Keats, "it will all disappear to you. You'll forget where you came from, you'll never have to miss anyone. You'll forget all about Hunt and his bigoted ways too. You'll meet new people, your career will take off, you'll have a_ life."_

Simon slowly began to rise from the floor. He looked at Keats, desperately hoping his promises were genuine.

"And I won't remember that I died?"

"It'll be like starting again," Keats smiled amiably. He held out his hand. "Join me."

Simon hesitated. He glanced down at his own hand, unsure whether to offer it or not. Just as he was about to make up his mind a voice cried out,

"_Don't listen to him, Simon!"_

Simon and Keats turned to the doorway where a flustered, breathless Alex stood.

"DI Drake," sighed Keats.

"DCI," Alex corrected, "I have a surprise for you, Jim. It's called an arrest warrant."

"I don't think so," sighed Keats casually pulling a gun from his pocket and aiming it at her without a second thought, "you won't be doing that, but I'm glad you're here. You've arrived in time to see Simon join my department."

Alex turned to Simon, aghast.

"Simon, _no,"_ she urged.

"I'm dead, Alex," Simon whispered, "they're turning off my life support."

"Never give up!" cried Alex, "you still have hope."

"Some things are beyond hope," said Keats.

"Well not _you,_ Simon," Alex told him urgently.

"I haven't had any more messages," Simon said weakly, "since I heard the doctors talking earlier."

"That doesn't mean _anything,"_ Alex pleased, "Simon, just hold on. don't let him brainwash you. You're stronger than that."

"A new beginning," said Keats, "starting over, no one to miss, just a new start with all the opportunities you can dream of."

"Listen to me - you are _not_ dead yet…"

"_You don't know that!"_ screamed Keats, foam literally appearing in the corners of his mouth as he began to lose control, "try to give him false hope of going home, deprive him of a new start?"

"Simon," Alex's face was desperate and urgent, "look at his watch."

Simon frowned, his head thumping and his thoughts confused.

"What?" he whispered.

"His _watch_," cried Alex, "look at his watch. What time does it say?"

Simon grabbed Keats' wrist and looked at the smart watch.

"Six-thirty," he said.

"The second hand," said Alex, "is it going?"

"What?"

"Is it moving? Is it going round?"

Simon had the chance of see it move a notch before Keats angrily pulled his arm back.

"Yes?" he said in confusion.

Relief and joy washed over Alex's expression. She closed her eyes just for a moment and a smile formed across her lips.

"Then," she whispered, "you're still alive."

"I am?" Simon started to shake.

"Yes," Alex cried, "Simon, the time is still moving for you. You still have a chance. You've got to fight it. Time doesn't change for me. It's nine-o-six… it's _always_ nine-o-six. I didn't make it," she noticed Simon's face falling, "but you still have a chance."

"Alex?" Simon's voice wavered, "you… you died?"

Alex's face crumpled a little.

"Yes," she whispered, "but you… you're still fighting."

"His head was bashed in!" cried Keats, "you don't seriously believe he has a chance?"

"You have to fight him, Simon," Alex urged, "think of him as the hole in your skull. You have to get rid of him to recover. Fight him, Simon."

"I think it's a little late for that," said Keats. He signalled with his gun. "Move. Get in here."

Alex hesitated but saw he was serious.

"Just let Simon go," she said quietly, "we'll forget the arrest warrant, you can leave, be free to go wherever you please."

"MOVE!"

That did it. Alex shuffled forward slowly, her hands in the air, and moved across to the filing cabinet. Keats gripped Simon's wrist and began to lead him away.

"Ow! My toes!" cried Simon.

"Your toes will be fixed when you reach your new life," said Keats.

"N-no, I'm not going," said Simon.

Keats froze. A scowl filled his expression.

"_What?"_

"I said I'm not going," Simon repeated.

"You mad up your mind!"

"I thought about it," Simon confessed, "and I was tempted… just for a moment… but I still have a life and I need to fight to keep it."

"No," Keats turned his gun on Simon, "you're not getting away from me that easily."

"_CID, drop your weapon!"_

Three pairs of eyes turned to see Webber at the door, his gun aimed at Keats and an angry expression across his face.

"Can't do that, DS Webber," said Keats.

"Drop your weapon," Webber repeated.

Keats has no intention of dropping his weapon. Instead he moved it closet to Simon's head. In an instant Webber pulled his trigger, a bullet sent hurtling through the air toward the bespectacled man with an expression so dark.

In that moment, Keats made a mockery of time.

He froze it, changed it, took a second and stretched it for all eternity.

And in that moment, he swapped their places.

One bullet.

One shot.

One entry wound.

Simon's forehead.

The seconds that followed were horrifying, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, played out almost in slow motion, stretching out forever. For a few moments no one knew what to do. Then Alex heard screaming. It took her several seconds to realise the screaming was her own.

"I… I'm sorry," Webber gasped, "I didn't shoot him… I didn't aim anywhere _near _him… I don't…. understand…"

"Call an ambulance," Alex cried. She glanced at Webber who was frozen to the spot. "NOW!"

That seemed to do the trick. Webber spun on his toes and ran as fast as he could. Alex turned back to Simon, now laying motionless on the ground, blood spreading around him on the floor. A look of barely masked glee spread across Keats' face. He looked at Simon, watched as he twitched slightly, his skin pale and his eyes cold.

He began to kneel down beside him. Alex hesitated for the briefest second, then like a deep-rooted animal instinct had been unearthed within her she began to scream.

"_NO!" _she cried, "no, you will NOT take him!" She lashed out and beat at his arms, beat them away from Simon, ripped them from their path to his dying form. She gripped him, pulled him away, tossed him backwards, her anger and fury giving her the strength of several men in that instant.

She saw him starting to close in one more time and thrust an elbow into his ribs, knocking him backwards before she knelt beside Simon; slowly, shakily. She felt sick and a strange fear washed over every inch of her body.

"Oh no," she whispered, "no, no, _no, _Simon, not you, please."

She stared at his face, the twitching slowing as she watched, the blood seeping faster now. Her eyes filled with tears and her heart beat as hard as a drum in her chest. Suddenly a strange sensation overtook her; a compulsion, a need. She couldn't understand it, nor could she explain it. Some instinct took her over, controlled her actions and movements.

Slowly, carefully, she reached out and pulled Simon's head into her lap. She cradled his head in one arm, a tear rolling down her face and falling onto his. She could feel his body in her grasp, still warm but giving in. The tiny movements of his chest faded as his heart slowed to a halt and his breathing ceased.

"Simon," she whispered, "you were so strong… please remember what you achieved, back where you came from."

As she held him she felt her arms beginning to tingle. A warmth spread through them, flowed into Simon, enveloped them in its energy. She closed her eyes just for a moment as she felt the essence of Simon flowing out of his lifeless form and whispering around her in the air. Before she opened her eyes again she thought she could hear a voice say the word _'soul' _very quietly. As the energy began to fade and Simon's body grew heavy, the last of his life disappearing into the ether, Alex opened her eyes. Keats had disappeared in the commotion, and a familiar figure was standing at the door. It was someone Alex desperately needed to see right then.

"_Gene," _she gasped, "I … I took him… I don't know what happened, I just…"

"You did what you had to do, Bolly," Gene said quietly. He slowly walked across to her and knelt down beside her. So gently he leaned forward, his lips pressed lightly to her forehead as she began to cry properly. After he'd kissed her softly he moved back and looked her in the eye. "You did what you had to do," he repeated, "you helped him. You were there when he needed you."

Alex gave a tiny nod and swallowed. She was shaking from head to toe with shock filtering through every inch of her body.

"I think I need a drink," she whispered.

Gene took a deep breath.

"You're talking my language, girl," he said quietly.

He had a feeling they were going to be in for a long night.

_It doesn't hurt me  
Do you want to feel how it feels  
Do you want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me  
Do you want to hear about the deal I'm making  
You  
It's you and me_

_And if I only could  
I'd make a deal with God  
And I'd get him to swap our places  
Be running up that road  
Be running up that hill  
Be running up that building_

_Say if I only could oh..._

_You don't want to hurt me  
But see how deep the bullet lies  
Unaware I'm tearing you asunder  
Oh there is thunder in our hearts  
Is there so much hate for the ones we love  
Tell me we both matter don't we  
You  
It's you and me  
It's you and me, you won't be unhappy_

_And if I only could  
I'd make a deal with god  
And I'd get him to swap our places  
Be running up that road  
Be running up that hill  
Be running up that building_

_If I only could..._

_You  
It's you and me  
It's you and me, you won't be unhappy_

_Come on baby, come on darling  
Let me steal this moment from you now  
Come on angel, come on, come on darling  
Let's exchange the experience, oh..._

_And if I only could  
I'd make a deal with God  
And I'd get him to swap our places  
Be running up that road  
Be running up that hill  
With no problems..._

_And if I only could  
Be running up that hill  
With no problems._

**Running Up That Hill - Kate Bush**

…**Released in 1985**


	19. Chapter 19: No Place for a Teetotaller

**Chapter 19**

Alex arrived back at CID with Gene. She walked straight to his office, the doors opening for her without the need to touch them. Pacing to the filing cabinet, she took from within a glass and a bottle, helped herself to a generous measure and downed it in one. She wasn't used to consuming such a harsh liquid and it made her gasp as it stung her throat. Her face contorted for a moment, then she sat the glass down and refilled it.

Gene looked at her, slightly amused.

"I don't know, Bols, you take my title, you take my role, now you take my scotch… will you be wanting me bloody car an' all?"

Alex stared into her glass. She knew she was still trembling and it took all her concentration to keep the glass still.

"What happened, Gene?" she whispered, "what _was_ that? How did I know?"

She sat down at one side of the desk while Gene took his usual place on the other.

Gene shook his head slowly.

"I wish I could give you an instruction book, Bolly, but I don't have one. It's what happens."

Alex couldn't look up.

"But why me?" she whispered, "why could I do that?

Gene took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Why _me?"_ he countered, "it just happens. I don't know why, after a while I stopped wondering."

Alex breathed deeply.

"Am I here to help you?" she asked weakly.

Gene didn't know the answer to her question. He scratched his head and tried to work out what to tell her.

"I don't know," he said, "maybe… usually by now I wouldn't even remember what _I_ was doing here."

"Perhaps that's my purpose," Alex whispered, "perhaps I was supposed to stay with you. Perhaps that's why I saw stars in The Railway Arms."

Gene still had no answers for her. It wasn't something he liked thinking about himself, let alone to think about what role Alex might fill in this world. He decided to change the subject.

"What_ happened _while I was locked away, Alex? What was the deal with Keats and Shoe-boy?"

"Simon," Alex said, feeling protective of his memory. She took a sip of her drink and waited until the liquid stopped burning her throat before beginning. "Keats had developed an unsavoury interest in him. He was desperate to get him onto his side. He didn't seem as interested in Webber or Malcolm or anybody else. For some reason Simon was the chosen one."

"Not something anyone wants to get chosen for," commented Gene.

"No," Alex agreed. She paused. "Simon didn't know you well enough to know any better so when Keats got to him first he fell for his… persuasive techniques."

"That ePhone twat planted the stuff in my office, didn't he?" Gene cried as the reality dawned on him.

Alex sighed.

"He didn't know any better," she said, "all you'd done was take the piss out of his name and insult him."

"Did the same with you an' Sam and you both turned out alright," Gene said haughtily.

"Well it took time," Alex reminded him, "which Simon didn't have. Keats targeted him when he was weak and showed him your dark side."

"I only have a dark side when I've forgotten to have a shave," Gene mumbled, pouring some whiskey for himself.

"He showed Simon a tape," Alex continued, "I think it must have been when you were still at Manchester. You were," she hesitated, "you were being violent towards a suspect…"

"That was how I used to get results in those days," Gene shrugged.

"…For being gay," Alex continued.

Gene frowned.

"So what are you saying, Keats likes a trip down the back alley?"

"No! Simon! I mean, Simon was _gay_."

"Simon and Keats were…"

"No, not Keats," Alex slapped her forehead, "oh for goodness sake… Let's start again."

Gene shook his head.

"It's OK, it's alright, I think I've got it now," he said. He took a swig from his glass and stared into the sloshing liquid as he placed it on the table. "So Shoe-Boy set me up."

"Under immense pressure from Keats," said Alex, "and he realised he'd been duped. He tried to make amends, tried to search Keats' office to find more of the magic white stuff he'd left as a present for you, but Keats caught him red handed. As soon as I realised Keats was on his way there too I got down there as fast as I could." she felt a little sick at the memory, "Keats pointed his gun at me. He was intent on taking Simon to his department… Webber arrived at the door and warned Keats to drop his weapon but instead the bastard aimed it at Simon's head."

"So how come Webber was the fella who ended up putting a bullet in his brain?"

Alex shook her head in confusion.

"I don't know, Gene," she sighed, still shaking a little, "something happened to time. I can't explain it. Keats swapped their places somehow, I don't know how, and suddenly Simon was in the line of fire." She swept a hand through her hair. When I saw Keats bending over Simon I just panicked. I could see all the bad in him and I knew whatever he was doing… he had to be stopped. I screamed at him, I can't even remember what I was saying. I just pulled him away and got to Simon first. After that…" she trailed off into silence.

Gene reached across the desk. Awkwardly he laid a hand over Alex's.

"You helped him where he needed to go," he told her.

Alex gave the tiniest smile.

"I was fond of Simon in the end," she said quietly, "I think he could have taught you a lot."

"How to measure me feet properly for a new pair of shoes?"

"_No,"_ Alex said crossly, "tolerance… technology…"

"Other things beginning with T?"

Alex frowned.

"Simon was a good man," she told him, "you never gave him a chance. And now… you never can." she started to feel the pricking of tears in her eyes. "You know what the worst part was?" she whispered, "he never even got to face his demons."

Gene looked at Alex seriously. For just a moment he had a little remorse in his eye.

"Or maybe," he began quietly, "_I_ was his demon."

"How do you mean?" whispered Alex.

Gene hesitated.

"I know… how I used to be," he said, "I'm not proud of some of my behaviour in the past. I don't know what Simon saw but it probably wasn't a laugh-a-minute affair."

"He knew about your past but he still tried to do the right thing in the end," Alex said quietly.

Gene lifted his glass.

"Maybe it's a shame we never got to work together after all," he said quietly.

Alex took a deep breath. She looked sadly at her hands.

"I keep thinking about the poor man, sitting in the Railway Arms," she said, "not much fun for a teetotaller. I can just imagine Ray trying to spike his orange juice." she shook her head. "What kind of paradise is that for someone who doesn't drink?"

Gene hesitated. He looked seriously at Alex and cleared his throat slightly.

"Alex," he began, "Simon… Simon didn't go to the Railway Arms."

Alex froze. She stared at Gene, slightly aghast. Her mouth fell open just a little.

"But… but I stopped Keats from…" she whispered, "I mean, I held him… I _helped _him…"

"Alex…"

"No, Gene," Alex started to cry a little, "you can't tell me I didn't save him… you can't tell me…"

"_Alex," _Gene tried again. He placed his hands over hers and looked deeply into her eyes, "Simon couldn't go to the Railway Arms… because he's _home._ You sent him _home,_ Bolly."

The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. Alex's heart skipped a beat and she could hear a ringing in her ears.

"He…" a look of amazement and pure relief began to cover her face, "he made it? He's… still _alive?"_

"He wasn't ready yet," Gene told her, "it wasn't his time to go on, it was his time to go _back."_

"But Keats…"

"Keats would have taken him," Gene sighed, "but you…" He squeezed her hands, "you sent him home."

Alex turned her eyes to the sky, her cheeks twitching as a smile graced her lips. She felt lighter than air. Simon had returned to his time; to his iPhone and his guinea pig, to his boyfriend and his sisters, to his father in time for his birthday and to a job he loved and did well - in 2010 if not in 1985.

"You made it home, Simon," she whispered, "I'm happy… hope you're happy too."

Gene downed the last of his drink, got to his feet and held his hand out.

"Come on, Miss Bolly," he said quietly, "I think you need to get out of here for a while."

"Where are we going?" Alex asked quietly.

"Don't make me say your place or mine," sighed Gene.

Alex gave him a cheeky smile.

"It had better be my place then," she told him, "…I don't fancy getting a steering wheel up my backside…"

Gene smirked.

"Now you're talking," he said.

With a flutter in her heart for more than one reason Alex got to her feet and let Gene escort her out to the building and into his car where he took to the road and finally took her away to soothe away the traumas, the tears and the heartache of the day.


	20. Chapter 20: Pink Girly Couches

**Chapter 20**

As Alex arrived back at her flat with Gene she thought about how it felt as though it had been several days since she was last there. The last day had been so fraught and traumatic that it seemed to stretch out forever. She slumped down onto her couch, her head throbbing, and glanced up in confusion as Gene marched to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Gene opened the door of the refrigerator and peered inside.

"Checking for phantom Jimbos," he told her without irony.

He marched back out the kitchen and through to the bathroom where he checked in the toilet bowl.

"All clear?" Alex sighed.

Gene reappeared in the lounge, peered at the pattern on the rug to check Keats wasn't sewn into the wool, then nodded.

"It looks like it," he said gruffly, feeling a little foolish.

Alex gave a tired smile.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"What, _again?"_ sighed Gene.

"I need some answers," Alex told him.

Gene scratched his forehead.

"Can we get a drink first?" he asked.

"Later," said Alex. She patted the couch as though inviting a cat to jump up beside her. Gene reluctantly sat down beside her, moaning;

"My thoughts about pink girly sofas have not changed since this morning."

Alex looked at him seriously. Her head was in a spin, and it wasn't from the scotch.

"I need to know something, Gene. How did you know about Simon?" she asked, "how do you know he went home? I mean… how _can_ you know?"

Gene took a deep breath and wished again that he had a drink.

"Sam Tyler…" he began.

Alex's mouth fell open.

"What's _he_ got to do with it?" she demanded.

"Nothing!" said Gene, "let me finish, woman!" he sighed. "Sam Tyler… went into a tunnel and disappeared. He vanished… totally vanished. It was only for a second or two, but he did. He'd woken up. Then he reappeared… it was only a second here but where he'd come from weeks had passed. He rejoined us, like nothing had happened. I was in denial about what happened when he vanished for a long time, didn't want to think about it." he paused and took a deep breath. "When the ambulance arrived and you went to wash your hands," he thought sadly about Alex's trembling form smeared with blood as he spoke, "they thought they found a weak pulse, then they lost it… they reminded me more of trainspotters than ambulance men, totally useless. They decided to try bringing 'im back…"

"They tried to resuscitate him?" frowned Alex.

Gene nodded.

"Only thing is," he began, "It's a bit difficult to do CPR when the bloke you're CPRing disappears right in front of you."

Alex's eyes bolted.

"Simon _vanished?" _she gasped.

"Before our very eyes," he told her. "I didn't know whether to tell you at first, you'd been through enough already."

"And unlike Sam, he didn't come back," Alex whispered.

"Not yet anyway," said Gene, "maybe another ten years down the line something else will fall on his head. Right now… he's probably singing sweet nothings to his iPhone."

Alex smiled distantly.

"You finally got that right," she whispered.

Gene looked at her seriously.

"You did good today, Alex," he told her.

Alex swallowed, still confused.

"If… if I sent Simon home," she began, "why couldn't you do the same for me?"

Gene sighed.

"Bolly…"

"You could have sent me home when you shot me," Alex started to feel angry, "you could have picked me up and sent me home."

"It doesn't work like that," Gene told her, "It's not that easy. Simon… he was ready to go home because his body was recovering. It was a coincidence that the shot hit him just before it was going to happen. A few minutes more and Keats would have had a vanishing man in his office to contend with. There's no doubt if you hadn't got to Simon first then Jimbo would have_ borrowed _him for his own purpose though."

Alex bit her lip. She supposed it made a little more sense.

"If Keats had taken Simon then he wouldn't have woken up in his own time, would he?" she said quietly.

Gene shook his head.

"No, Bolly, he wouldn't," Gene confirmed, "because there'd have been nothing of him left to return home."

Alex gave a slow nod.

"OK," she said quietly. She had more questions but wasn't sure how to phrase them. "I think I understand. But what I don't get is why Simon was only here for such a short time compared to me or Ray or Chris or Shaz, but it seemed like time was moving so much faster in his own time… while _I _was here for a couple of years but only a few days passed in two-thousand-and-eight."

Gene shrugged slightly.

"Time doesn't work the same here for everyone," he said.

"But… but that's just _crazy," _said Alex, "time is a constant. It's a law!"

"The only law that's in place here is the one I follow, keeping scum off the streets," said Gene.

Alex rolled her eyes. It was such a typically Gene thing to say. She supposed there was no real answer, only that different people perceived time differently in this world. To one person a minute in their own time could represent weeks in Gene's. To another a day of their own time could represent five minutes in 1985.

"I still don't understand why I was able to help him," she whispered, "I didn't even think about it, I just knew what to do."

"Looks like you've got a job to do here, Bols," said Gene.

"I don't think I know what that is yet," Alex admitted, "am I supposed to take over from you? To help you? What?"

"Nah," said Gene, "it's to look after me condoms. Stop me from losing 'em." He allowed himself a smirk at the horrified glance on Alex's face. He couldn't resist it. He grew serious again and took Alex's hand. "Maybe… it's about time I had some help," he said gruffly, "I hate to admit it, Bols, but you've done good things since you arrived and now you're keeping me memory fresh too. This place is changing, getting bigger, getting tougher. We work well together. There's no one else I'd want to share it with."

Alex's mouth twitched into a smile. She couldn't resist it.

"Do you mean it?" she asked.

Gene nodded.

"Someone's got to help me find where Keats has buggered off to and stop me strangling the next Simon that walks through the door.

Alex nodded slowly.

"Then it's a deal," she said quietly.

A silence fell for a few moments. Both Gene and Alex were deep in thought. Both found their worlds were changing. The world was a scary, exciting place and everything could change in the blink of an eye, but they knew now that they had each other to rely on.

"I'll get you that drink now," Alex said with a distant smile, getting to her feet, but Gene reached out and stopped her.

"Wait," he said as he took her wrist.

Alex stumbled a little and looked back to see what the matter was.

"What's wrong?"

Gene pulled her back towards him.

"Come here," he said quietly.

Alex sat back beside him and looked to him with concern.

"What's wrong?" she asked again.

Gene stared into her deep, absorbing eyes. He could see the whole world buried within them. He reached up, his knuckles slightly bent and ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her cheek. Her skin was so soft and warm, it sent a tingle through his whole hand.

"Sometimes," he whispered, "I start to forget how real this world is. And then I look at you…"

"Shh," Alex whispered, gently slipping her fingers into his hair.

"…And I can see…"

Alex shook her head slowly.

"You don't have to explain it," she said quietly, "I know what you mean."

"You're as real as it gets, Bolly," Gene breathed. His eyes closed without even realising and leaned just a fraction forward. Alex exhaled, not even realising how long she had been holding her breath. She leaned forward and her lips brushed against his, barely touching at first and then pressing harder. The more deeply they kissed, the more real the world became. It had to be real for something to feel so good.

Alex could feel her heart racing and beads of sweat beginning to form on her brow and across her chest. She didn't want to break away but eventually needed to come up for air. She brushed her hair out of her face and looked at Gene. Her lipstick was smudged across his mouth and a bulge had appeared between his legs which he tried to cover by crossing them quickly.

"You, uh, you still got those rubber johnnies, I 'ope," he flustered.

Alex gave a coy smile.

"Are you thinking of breaking the no-girly-couches rule, DCI Hunt?" she asked.

Gene scowled for a moment at the cutesy colour and tried to ignore it.

"On one condition," he said, "next time we do it in the back of the Merc. Even up the score a bit."

"Well if that's not a romantic prospect then I don't know what is," Alex teased.

"Come here," Gene grinned, pulling her into his lap and causing her to let out a squeal and a giggle rolled into one.

For the rest of the night they spent the time proving to each other just how real the world was with one glorious moment after another; one powerful sensation following the last, a never-ending night of need, passion and closeness that could only be shared by people who knew each other inside and out the way Alex and Gene knew each other. In the morning Gene would complain about the colour of the couch and how it hurt his back, and Alex would pretend to be offended and turn him out to get breakfast before she'd forgive his anti-couch propaganda, but for now they had a night of warmth, pleasure and desire to enjoy. They both had to agree, it had been a long time coming.

_**Please Note: In the interests of keeping this fic a T rating there'll be a 'deleted scene' appearing as a separate fic when this one is complete, keep an eye out! There are still a few more chapters to go here though!**_


	21. Chapter 21: Ramdom CPR Attacks

**Chapter 21**

Alex whistled nonchalantly to herself as she entered the office the following morning. She and Gene had decided to arrive separately to avoid any unwanted questions. Moving from close friends and colleagues to lovers was a big adjustment to make and one they wanted to take in their own time. Besides, Alex was still trying to escape getting a steering wheel up her backside so she decided to avoid the Mercedes for now.

"Morning," she said brightly. Malcolm looked at her aghast.

"Ma'am?" he said.

"Is everything OK?" Alex asked.

"Uh… how are you doing?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm fine," Alex smiled, "why?"

"I… I thought after yesterday…" Malcolm stammered, "…uh, when is Simon's funeral going to be held?"

Alex froze. She closed her eyes for a moment and cursed silently. To the rest of the team Simon was dead, shot by Webber in a freak accident that no one could explain.

"Um," she began, "I'm not sure," she paused and sighed. There would be no funeral for Simon. There can be no funeral without a body, after all. Simon may have returned home to his loved ones, but those who'd grown fond of him in 1985 wouldn't have a chance to say goodbye. Alex began to feel sad all of a sudden. She hadn't even thought about that aspect. "I'll see if I can find out. I'm… I'm OK, thank you for asking. Just trying to put it behind me, that's all."

"There's been no sign of Keats," Malcolm told her, "uniform combed the area but he's hiding well. All they found were a team of ambulance men who'd gone crazy causing a disturbance on the street."

"An ambulance crew?"

"Kept jabbering on about patients vanishing," Malcolm explained, "They were randomly administering CPR to people on the street and crying, _'Where did he go? Have you seen him?'"_

Alex bit her lip.

"Where are they now?" she asked sheepishly.

"We locked 'em up!" Malcolm said proudly.

Alex left a false, fixed grin across her face.

"Well done," she said, "good work." She walked across to her desk, found her notebook and added to the bottom of her to-do list _apologise to and free ambulance crew from cells._

Gene breezed in trying not to stop for long enough for anyone to see the spring in his step.

"Morning," he said curtly, "Drake, a word, my office."

Alex glanced around to check no one thought anything was amiss, then followed Gene into his office where he closed the blinds.

"You wanted to see me, Guv?" she raised an eyebrow.

Gene threw down a sheet of paper with a crudely drawn picture of the interior of his new car upon it.

"I've worked out the best possible angle to do this and not get a steering wheel up your arse," he said.

"Oh my goodness, you've drawn diagrams!" cried Alex, not sure whether to be impressed by his efficiency or insulted by his representation of her as a stick-woman with two enormous circles forming her chest. "They're not that big!"

"I think you'll find the proportions of meself are fairly accurate though," Gene said proudly.

Alex scanned the diagram for the Gene stickman and her mouth fell open.

"Gene, that's not humanly possible!" she cried, "for one thing if it was that long I'd have been about three foot away from you last night!"

"I might have used a small amount of artistic licence," Gene admitted.

"Small? There's nothing small in this picture!"

The door began to open, then closed again and a half-hearted knock sounded. Gene rolled his eyes.

"Getting there, Malcolm," he sighed, "what?"

The door opened properly and Malcolm peered around.

"Ma'am," he addressed Alex, "the superintendent called. He wants you to see him immediately."

Alex looked at Gene a little nervously.

"I wonder what he wants."

"You'll be fine," said Gene.

Alex hesitated for a moment, then nodded and left feeling a little anxious. She couldn't put her finger on it but she had a feeling something unpleasant was about to unfold.

* * *

It could all so easily have been over the day before, but some people just didn't know when they were beaten. He could have given up, given in, moved on and started somewhere new, but he didn't. So he'd lost Simon, and that was one 'recruit' he'd been desperate to get his hands on. Fresh meat. Barely over to this side. It would have been such a tasty prize.

But it wasn't over. It was beyond personal now. There were two people who had to pay, and the delightful part was that he knew getting to one would hurt the other. Whichever one he got to first would punish the other by default. It was like getting a two-for-one deal.

The wheels were already in motion and he knew that whatever lay ahead it would be the most exquisite form of revenge.

* * *

The Superintendent was a new figure to Alex. She had only met him for the first time the day before when she gained her promotion. He seemed to have arrived during the interim years that fell between the departure of the others and Simon's arrival.

She knocked nervously on his door and waited, feeling like a school girl called to the headmaster's office.

"Enter."

Alex bit her lip, took a deep breath and stepped inside.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" she asked.

"Ahh, DCI Drake," the Superintendent sat up a little straighter, "I am transferring you, effective immediately.

Alex froze. She hadn't been expecting those words.

"What?" she said quietly, a laugh of shock bubbling under.

"DCI Hunt has been reinstated following the charges being dropped against him. He is perfectly capable of heading up CID and as DCI your talents can be better used elsewhere."

"But CID… is my home," Alex flustered.

"We have been looking for someone to head up a new department," the Superintendent told her, "a forward-thinker, a modern role-model. As a female DCI with brains, beauty _and_ guts I couldn't think of anyone better."

Alex's stare turned into a glare. She couldn't help it.

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, Sir," she began, "but I am very happy in CID and I think that's where my skills are best put to use."

The Superintendent took a deep breath. He linked his fingers together, leaned forward and sighed.

"DCI Drake," he began, "relationships between key personnel are not seen as a good idea."

Alex froze.

"Pardon?" she whispered.

"It's come to our attention that things between you and DCI Hunt have taken a more… personal turn of late. I have seen this kind of situation many times before. It can be the downfall of a strong department and lead to the breakdown of a good working partnership. If you and DCI Hunt wish to continue your… out-of-office relationship then so be it, but you can no longer work efficiently as a team at the same time."

"But… but that's not fair," Alex cried, "and how do you even think you know what the relationship between DCI Hunt any myself is?"

"There are eyes and ears everywhere," the Super told her, "the walls are not as thick as you might think."

Alex looked down. She felt like she'd been told off for kissing behind the bike sheds.

"Gene and I," she began, "we're adults. We can handle this."

"That may be so," said the Super, "but the fact remains that CID does not need two DCIs and after earning your promotion we are not intending to take it away from you. We need a strong character to head up the Hi-Tech Crimes division and there is no one better suited to the post." He paused and stood up. "Clear your desk. They will be expecting you at lunchtime."

He handed her a sheet of paper with some details of the transfer and held out his hand. Alex stared at it for some time. She thought about spitting on it or stapling it to the desk but there was a part of her that knew any further action could see her transferred to a different station, let alone a different department. It was the lesser of two evils.

"Thank you, _Sir,"_ she said coldly, shaking his hand so abruptly she almost pulled his arm from its socket. As she turned to leave she felt angry and empty. She didn't want to contemplate working anywhere but CID where she felt at home and needed. Besides, no other department had Gene. The day had gone from a ten-out-of-ten to a minus-five in one easy step.


	22. Chapter 22: A Plant and the Crown Jewels

**Chapter 22**

Gene peered out of his office to see an angry Alex wrestling a pot plant into a box.

"What's this?" he frowned, "loading up for a car boot sale?"

Alex looked at Gene, the anger plashing in her eyes.

"The Superintendent has decided to transfer me," she said crossly.

Gene's face darkened like the sky before a storm.

"He _what?"_

"He seems to think our _relationship_ is detrimental to our working partnership," snapped Alex, throwing a stapler into the box where it took three leaves off the plant, "plus you apparently don't need another DCI in CID so I'm being moved out to a new department."

"What department?"

"Hi-Tech Crimes or some such nonsense," Alex scowled, "it's ridiculous, Gene."

"Yeah, well, we'll soon see about this. I have the final say on who belongs in my team around here. However many springs we broke last night on that bloody couch of yours -"

_"Gene!"_

"- we are partners and I need you on my team," Gene continued, "no one else is poaching you. You're staying here."

"I have my 'orders'," Alex sighed.

"I've got orders for you too," said Gene.

"If they involve the best way to make love in the back of a Mercedes…"

"No, they are for you to stay right here," said Gene.

Alex sighed. She rubbed her head.

"I really don't think it's going to do any good to argue with him," she said, "if anything he'll go further to split us up. I don't want to end up at some other station, in some other city. At least if I'm still at Fenchurch East then we'll be in the same building. There's no reason why our paths shouldn't cross now and then…"

Gene shook his head. He could see what she was saying but he wasn't happy about it.

"I'm not letting you out of my team without a fight," he said.

"Don't give them any more reason to split us up," Alex pleaded, "they're looking for excuses. They used to do this all the time on The X Files."

Gene frowned, totally confused.

"What's that?" he asked, "a department for dealing with domestics between divorced couples?"

Alex sighed and shook her head.

"It doesn't matter," she said, "I just think it will be better for us in the long-run if we humour the Super for now. Look at what's happened this week; we've lost Simon, Webber's on compassionate leave and the subject of an inquiry, CID is under scrutiny. You really want D and C around again? A whole team of Keatses who all want to close you down."

Gene huffed a little. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of that at all. He pictured seven or eight Keats-like figures all in a row, sharpening their pencils, and shuddered.

"Fair enough, Bols," he said quietly, "you're talking sense."

Alex looked sadly at Gene.

"Believe me, I'm no happier about this than you are," she said, "but right now the alternatives don't bear thinking about. At least we'll only be a few floors apart."

Gene took a deep breath. He hesitated, then finally spoke again.

"You'd better meet me back here tonight for a drink and a drive, Drakey."

"Not at the same time I hope," Alex gave a little smile. She popped her notebook into the box and hauled it up, tucking it under her arm. "I'd better go. They're expecting me at midday."

Gene took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The speed at which Alex had been moved from his department had knocked the sense out of him a little and he couldn't formulate a proper sentence. He wished she hadn't given in so easily, but could see that her fears of being moved further afield were justified and - under the circumstances - she was doing what she could to keep them as close together as possible.

"You call on me if you need any… y'know… technical advice for these crimes you're solving, right?"

Alex choked back a giggle and turned it into a cough. She looked at gene sadly, stroked the side of his face and planted the softest kiss on his lips.

"Keep my desk warm," she said quietly, "I'll find a way back in here. Just give me time."

Gene could hardly bring himself to watch Alex leave. It held too many echoes of her walk to the Railway Arms just a few short days before. He knew what she'd said and it made perfect sense but he couldn't let it rest there. He felt a visit to the Super was on the cards, just as soon as he'd cleaned the lipstick from his face.

* * *

Alex struggled down four flights of stairs with a box under her arm, the leaves from her pot plant tickling her nose and poking her in the ear every now and then. She was starting to get very annoyed and considered dumping it somewhere when she realised she was finally at the door of her new office. A brand new plaque had been nailed to it that morning; _"Hi-Tech Crimes Division - DCI Alex Drake" _

"Here goes nothing," she sighed, swinging open the door and stepping into the dark room beyond. She switched the light switch and waited a moment for the bulbs to spark into life.

"Welcome home," said a voice.

It was a voice that caused Alex's heart to stall. It caused her to gasp involuntarily. It caused her body to freeze and her eyes to bolt. It was a voice she found all to familiar, yet one she never wanted to hear again. As the light filled the room a figure stepped out from the darkness, draped in a long trench coat. A pair of glasses that had been smashed by a headbutt and fixed with sellotape sat on his nose and one hand stretched out before him in a gesture of greeting. He smiled amiably.

"Welcome aboard, Alex," he said.

For several moments Alex lost the power of speech. Of all the things she'd been expecting to see , Keats had been at the very bottom of the list.

"Jim Keats," she whispered, "murderer."

Keats waited for her to shake his hand. When she didn't, he drew it back looking a little hurt.

"Welcome to the high tech crimes division," he said, "I think you're going to do great work here.

"You kill Simon and then shake my hand like nothing's happened?" Alex cried.

Keats sighed.

"_Tried_ to shake your hand," he corrected, "you refused. That's not a good start for our working relationship."

"We don't have a working relationship," Alex hissed angrily.

"And besides," Keats began, "I didn't kill DCI Shoebury. I believe DS Webber's weapon must have malfunctioned and shot the poor fellow dead. Such a shame. He had such a promising future."

"What do you want?" Alex began to shake a little and tried desperately to hold her nerve.

"I've been working on establishing the Hi-Tech Crimes division for some time now," Keats began as though nothing had happened, "Now that the basics are in place I've been searching for the right person to head things up. At first I thought of Simon but, well, unfortunately he is no longer with us."

"So you thought of me?" Alex scowled, "well, I am touched."

"I'll be working closely with you," Keats continued, "until the department is well established."

"No you won't," Alex threw her box to the floor, "I'd quit the force before I'd work with you. But since I'm still a DCI I am formerly arresting you for possession of a class-A drug and -"

Keats shook his head slowly.

"Oh, didn't you hear?" he asked, "the charges have been dropped."

"Since when?" Alex scowled.

"Since the Super dropped them," Keats smiled.

Alex shook her head in disgust and turned to walk away.

"Suddenly everyone wants to deal with the devil," she hissed.

Keats quickly placed himself between Alex and the door, shutting it and leaning up against it. He looked at her sincerely.

"Come on, Alex," he began, "I know we got off on the wrong foot and we haven't seen eye to eye lately but I really want things to work out here and I want you to lead the Hi-Tech Crimes division to great things."

Alex stared at Keats, hardly believing the spiel he was giving her. It was as though he'd blocked out all memory of the day before and everything that had happened in 1985. She looked at his face where he was using puppy-dog eyes to win her round. They were the same eyes he'd used on her many times to wear her down with his lies about Gene. She'd almost fallen for them before. She was wise to them now.

"Stand aside and let me pass," she whispered.

Keats just smiled charmingly.

"Take a look at your desk," he said, "I think you'll find it has everything you need to get going right away."

"Let me _pass," _Alex hissed again. She reached around the side of Keats to turn the door handle but he grabbed her wrist in one strong hand and held it right where it was.

"Give me one chance," he told her, "one case. Work with me here, Alex, don't fight me."

Alex gathered all her strength together and yanked her wrist from his grasp. She rubbed it gingerly, stalling for time, not sure what to do or say. She looked at his expression. It seemed genuine. His eyes reflected hurt and rejection from Alex's actions. She felt so confused, The more she thought about it, the more Keats seemed like two completely different entities.

"Who _are_ you, Jim?" she whispered, "I mean, who are you _really? What_ are you really?"

Jim gave a nervous laugh.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Sometimes I look at you and you just look like a normal person; you smile and talk like anyone else on the street. The something flips a switch and you become…" She trailed off.

"Go on," prompted Keats.

Alex swallowed.

"A monster," she whispered.

Keats swept his fingers through his hair. He glanced away for a split second. A tiny battle went on inside his mind before he looked back at Alex with a smile and a nervous laugh, walking away from her, just a step or two.

"Is this about yesterday?" he asked, "because I was concussed… I must have been acting a little strangely, I confess. I'm sorry."

Alex closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No, no, _no,"_ she whispered, "no, it's not. You're two different people. You're Jim Keats, lining up your pencils, keeping the force in check. Then you're some sort of… whirlwind of devastation, determined to destroy Gene, tearing the world apart, not caring who may fall by the wayside. What _are_ you? Are you even a man?"

In reply, Keats grasped Alex's wrists and pressed them against the door, above her head. A waft of his aftershave caught Alex's nostrils. She stopped breathing abruptly, not wanting to absorb the scent as though it was poison or might overcome her. She held her breath as long as she could, then exhaled and made certain her next breath was taken through her mouth. She glanced back just for a moment and saw the puppy dog eyes had been replaced; replaced by the other look Keats could wear. The evil glint, the brow wrinkled with unholy intent. His top lip rose slightly in something Alex couldn't quite read. Was it a sneer? Was it hatred? No, it was worse than that. She read it correctly as a lustful glare.

"Get your hands off me," she hissed.

"You asked if I was a man," Keats leaned in closer, his face contorted by desire that he didn't know how to control. Slowly he pressed his body against her, leaving her in no doubt that he was - at least in one department - a man.

Alex's eyes opened wide in horror as she felt a lump pressing against her and without thinking she brought one knee swiftly up to deal with the problem. Keats doubled up in an instant, letting out a loud expression of pain as he did so. Crumpling to the floor, he gripped his crown jewels and muttered a string of obscenities as Alex began to rattle the door handle. To her horror it wouldn't budge. She glanced back at Keats on the ground. She hadn't seen him lock it, perhaps it was stuck. She pulled and twisted it as hard as she could but nothing happened.

Looking behind her one more time, she could see Keats beginning to regain a little control as the pain slowly subsided. The sight of him getting to his feet filled her with horror and fear.

"_Please!"_ she screamed, "Someone! _Anyone! _Help me!"

Keats straightened himself up. He smoothed down his coat. He adjusted his spectacles and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Shall we start again?" he asked, "I believe I was welcoming you to the Hi-Tech Crimes division."

As he walked slowly towards her a sense of doom filled every inch of Alex's body. Trapped by the devil, no way out. For most people death was as bad as things could get. For Alex, things were taking on a whole new level of horror.


	23. Chapter 23: Intoxicated by You

**Chapter 23**

Subtlety never his strong point, Gene burst into the Superintendent's office so hard that a picture fell from the wall. For a brief moment the Super thought an earthquake had hit but the sight of an angry Gene gave him the real answer.

"I was wondering when I was going to receive a visit from you, DCI Hunt," he said warily.

"Alex Drake is the best," Gene began.

The superintendent raised his eyebrow.

"So I hear," he commented.

Gene rolled his eyes, widened his stance and put his hands onto the edge of the desk.

"She's got more brains than the rest of Fenchurch put together. She knows how to get a result. She's got all that… psychiatry crap, I might not understand it but it gets her inside the heads of the miscreants and ne'er-do-wells alright. CID had never performed as well as it did the day she arrived."

"Then don't you think she's earned her promotion?"

"I need her on my team. I've already lost a DI this week."

"If you don't feel you can cope with CID yourself," The Super began, "then perhaps it might be time to start thinking about early retirement."

"Early retirement… do me a favour," Gene laughed crossly, "how about you get me a pipe and some slippers and _really_ set the scene?"

"It's not a sign of weakness to admit you can't keep up with the job any more," The Superintendent began, "Keeping the streets clean… it's a young man's game and we none of us are the men we used to be. A few grey hairs, a few wrinkles…"

"Speak for yourself, me skin's flawless," Gene scowled.

The Superintendent sighed.

"Gene, whatever your relationship with DCI Drake outside of Fenchurch you must know that she is bound for bigger and better things. This new department… hi-tech crimes… it needs someone dynamic and forward thinking to get it off the ground and understand which direction to take it. I'm sure together with DCI Keats she'll -"

Gene's heart jumped into his mouth. Before he could think about what he was saying the words leapt forth.

"You had better not have just said what I think you said. Because if you mentioned that murdering, pencil-necked, bent, concussed _bastard_ in the same sentence as DCI Drake then I might have to remove your head and take it on a trip to the _bowling alley!"_

The superintendent found himself lost for words for a moment. He muttered a few 'well I never's before constructing a slightly more coherent sentence.

"I'm well aware of your recent misunderstanding with DCI Keats," he began, "but threatening your Superintendent is…"

"You've no idea, have you?" Gene cried, "you've no idea what you've done! Where is she?"

"She's getting established in her new post…"

"_Which office?"_ Gene leaned so close to the Superintendent he could practically smell what the DCI had for breakfast. He was about to give Gene a verbal warning when something in his expression stopped him. There was a raw fear, a panic of someone who knew something that killed their very heart stone dead. He swallowed.

"Ground floor," he whispered, "east block, room 23."

Gene backed up a little. He straightened his tie and glared at the super.

"If I find he's laid one finger on her," he hissed, "hurt one hair on her head…" he held out one finger in a threatening manner but couldn't think of a threat harsh enough to suit the moment. Eventually he decided this was a time for action instead of clever insults. He turned on his heels and raced from the room, back to his office as quickly as he could manage.

He was out of breath by the time he got there. Susannah and Malcolm glanced up, shocked by his flustered appearance.

"Sir?" asked Malcolm, "are you alright?"

Gene gulped in a breath of air and tried to gather his thoughts.

"Is this it?" he asked, "is this all the team I've got left?"

Susannah felt a little deflated.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "DS Webber is on leave following… following yesterday's events."

Gene nodded slowly. He hesitated.

"I need you both to come with me," he said, "and bring a blunt instrument."

"What for?" Malcolm frowned.

"We're going on a ball-slicing mission," Gene told him.

Susannah and Malcolm exchanged a glance and a shrug.

"I've given up asking," Malcolm whispered, "this place is weird."

* * *

Alex shook as Keats towered over her. She felt sure he'd never been so tall before. Was it the shadow against the wall cast from the dim lights behind that gave him the illusion of such height? Or was it the knowledge that she was trapped, with no way out?

"What do you want from me?" she whispered.

"All I want," Keats held his palms open to her, "is to work with you. That's all."

"That switch has flipped again," Alex whispered, "You've gone from maniac to man again." She took in a deep breath. "Come on, Jim. I know there's a real man in there. Do the right thing. Do the gentlemanly thing. Open the door and let me go."

Keats gave a laugh of genuine amusement.

"Now I'm getting a real glimpse of Alex the Psychologist!" he said, impressed, "trying your reasoning techniques on me, are you?"

"No, of course not," Alex lied, "I'm worried about you. You change so fast… I want to know who _is_ the real Jim Keats."

As much as she knew she was trying to keep him talking and trying every tactic she could there was a genuine part of her that could see two sides to Keats. She couldn't work out if he was schizophrenic, whether he was manic depressive or if it was something more otherworldly than that. She thought about Gene and his role in this world. If the world was created by Gene's desperation to keep on living and to fight the good fight then could Keats have been born of a similar need, expect as the complete opposite of Gene?

"You make out you're the devil," Alex said quietly, "but there's a human side to you. There's a man in there somewhere. Who _is_ Jim Keats, hmm? Let me see the human side again."

Keats looked at Alex, his mouth open to make an angry remark, but something in her eyes halted him. There was a pleading, a desperation. He could see there was some truth to her question. The fact she felt the need to ask it worried him. He blinked, once, twice, tried to shake away the strange fears and sensations her words had caused him.

"You're looking at me," he said, "I'm Jim Keats. That's me - no more, no less."

Alex felt weak and defeated. She slid to the ground. She couldn't think of a way out; not a physical escape plan or a verbal one. She watched with tears in her eyes as Keats knelt down beside her and turned on his puppy dog eyes again. Alex hated that. They were difficult to fight. It was the most human Keats could get, but the most charming also.

"Just open the door," she whispered, "let me go. I'll leave the force, I'll leave you alone, you'll never see me again."

"But I _want _to see you, Alex," Keats leaned closer, He reached out and touched her hair which made her flinch and turn away. "What do you see in DCI Hunt?"

The question caught Alex off guard.

"What?"

"Hunt," Keats said again, "what is it about him that you find _so impossible _to resist?"

"He's human," Alex hissed.

"So am I," Keats whispered. He leaned a little closer. "How many times are you going to let him fool you, Alex? How many times is he going to get through your defences? Look into your heart. Do you _really_ think he's good enough for you?" he took off his glasses, folded them up and tucked them into his pocket. "You want to share your bed with someone who smells of spirits every night of the week?"

"Actually, I don't have a bed…" was the best Alex could muster. Keats' aftershave was starting to make her giddy and she tried to hold her breath again.

She felt fingers on her cheek. The sensation made her nauseas but at the same time there was a part of her that shuddered with something more equated with excitement. She glanced at him just for a moment and forgot about his enchanting aftershave. Breathing in, it caught her off-guard. She tried to block out the scent, but coupled with the puppy dog eyes she was finding him hard to ignore. He was putting something to work on her, she was sure of that. Some hypnosis, some… trickery. She began to feel quite intoxicated by his presence.

"Who _are_ you?" she gasped.

Keats cupped her face.

"Don't waste time wondering," he whispered, "give in and find out."

The room was spinning. Alex couldn't focus. Her head began to thump as her pulse echoed in her ears. She hated herself, hated herself so much for it, but she kept staring at Keats' lips and thinking about how soft they looked. She flashed back to a hundred little moments in CID, back before Jim had shown his true colours, back when everything was 'above board' and all he was doing there was carrying out a D&C investigation. Moments in the kitchen, at Luigis, at the speed dating night, in his office. Moments where he looked at her with _those_ eyes and did something to her. It was a spell; a dirty, rotten spell, of that she was quite sure, but it was a beautiful, exquisite spell that she found so hard to break.

She closed her eyes. She didn't want to know what was going to happen next. If she couldn't see it then she couldn't do anything about it. And besides, her eyelids were _so_ heavy. Her head started to swim, her body felt numb all over. It felt like a strange anaesthetic, a mystery sensation that ended with hot breath encroaching on her face.

"_Give in, Alex."_

Alex exhaled and waited. She felt her heart racing and the twitching of her limbs as she anticipated the following moments. Something numbed her mind, stopped her from thinking and just kept her in the moment.

Keats looked at the beautiful woman before him. How many times he'd wished to be in this position. How many times he'd dreamed about it. Now, finally, he was going to know what it was like to have a dream come true.

"_KEATS!"_

A scream like a war-cry shattered his dream and broke the spell. A shocked Alex gasped, opened her eyes widely and pulled backwards. She clutched her palm to her chest in horror, scarcely believing how deeply she had fallen under the spell of the man who wasn't quite human. She looked at him in shock and saw his eyes firmly focussed on the door. She watched his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed in fear.

"Oh shit," he whispered.

One kick at the door; two, three and open it flew, catching Alex on the shoulder as it did so. In the open doorway stood Gene, his hand clenched firmly around his gun. Behind him stood Susannah, with a cricket bat in her hands, and Malcolm who had brought along a colander from the canteen.

"_You only said a blunt object," _he'd protested when Gene took seven shades of piss out of his weapon of choice, _"colanders are blunt!"_

"Two words, Keats," Gene growled, "balls, sliced."

Susannah flinched and coughed a little.

"Sir, there's gas… something…"

"Fumes," Gene agreed with a frown. He looked at Alex, slumped on the floor. Her eyes were struggling to focus and her head was lolling. "What the bloody hell have you done to her, Keats?"

"Nothing," said Keats, _"…sadly."_

Susannah covered her mouth with a handkerchief and ran inside. A large canister sat demurely by the wall, which Alex had mistaken for a fire extinguisher in her moments of fear and thought nothing more about.

"Guv, it's nitrous oxide," she cried.

Gene could hardly hear her through the handkerchief.

"Say again without your snot rag in your mouth," he frowned.

"Laughing gas!" she cried.

Gene glared at Keats.

"Well _I'm_ not laughing," he spat. For a moment he forgot his beef with Keats, scooped up Alex in his arms and took her away as fast as he could.

"Sir, what about Keats?" Malcolm cried, confused.

Gene couldn't think about that. He couldn't think beyond taking Alex to safety and making sure she was alright.

"He'll slither back to the surface soon enough," he hissed.

Susannah chased after them.

"I know first aid!" she said hopefully, "can I practice my resuscitation technique?"

"Piss off, Kite," said Gene, "anyone's doing the kiss of life around here, it's me."

Malcolm glanced at Gene's disappearing frame and the eager Susannah who was chasing him. Then he glanced back at Keats who turned on his puppy dog eyes and charming smile.

"_Take this," _he yelled, throwing the colander at Keats and striking him square in the jaw.

"_Argh!"_ Keats screamed, "you'll pay for that!"

Malcolm took off after the rest of the team and didn't dare look back. Angering a man with a kitchen tool wasn't something he did every day and with a madman like Keats he didn't want to stick around to find out the consequences.


	24. Chapter 24: Holding the Ace

**Chapter 24**

Alex sat with a blanket around her shoulders and a warm mug of something in her hands. Malcolm had made her a coffee, Gene had spiced it up with something stronger. Alex was grateful for both parts of the drink. The coffee helped to wake her from the chemically-induced haze, while the whiskey helped to numb the pain of what she almost did with Keats.

"Gas and air," she whispered.

Gene wasn't sure what she was talking about and thought she was playing some kind of woozy word-association game.

"Cock and balls," he tried.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"No… nitrous oxide," she sighed. She took a sip of her coffee. "Last time I had this, I was in labour with Molly." She flinched, thinking about her beloved daughter. She had been doing so well at trying to keep those thoughts at bay but every time she remembered Molly being left without her mother she couldn't stop the tears from welling.

"You didn't seem to be doing a lot of laughing if this 'ere was laughing gas," Gene commented.

"It wasn't a very funny situation," Alex whispered, flinching as she thought about Keats' fingers softly touching her face.

"Here you go, ma'am," Susannah knelt beside her and handed her a pot.

"What's this?" Alex asked quietly.

"I found DI Shoebury's pills," Susannah explained, "he seemed to enjoy them… thought they might help you with the shock."

Alex smiled distantly.

"That's very kind," she said, "thank you."

Susannah smiled at her, then walked away. Alex slipped the pills into her pocket, remembering poor Simon under the influence and deciding to stay well away from chemical substances for some time.

"So," Gene folded his arms and looked somewhere around the ceiling, "Keats is the Super's blue-eyed boy, we can't get to 'im legally, he's after _you, _Bolly… and he's got a lifetime's supply of nightie oxide."

"Nitrous," Alex corrected.

"I have no idea how we're going to stop this man."

Alex drank some more of her coffee.

"He's like two people, Gene," she sighed, "Jekyll and Hyde."

"Don't mention bloody Hyde," sighed Gene. He took his hip flask from his pocket and swigged from it generously.

"One minute he was grabbing my wrists and threatening me with his… _man lump,_" Alex shuddered, "the next he was smiling and telling me he was looking forward to working with me. How can that be?"

"He's insane!"

"No, I don't think he is," Alex insisted, "there's a person there somewhere, a real person, but you only see glimpses of it. Then the monster gets loose again."

"Keats is dangerous," Gene stared at his flask, "there's only one way I can think of to get rid of him permanently. Anything else and… he'll just keep coming back."

Alex nodded slowly.

"Agreed," she whispered.

Gene looked at her seriously.

"You do know what we're saying," he asked.

Alex looked Gene in the eye and nodded.

"Yes, I know," she said. She remembered for a moment the terrible intoxication she felt, down in room 23. It was more than the laughing gas. It was Keats. It was something in his eyes. He was dangerously compelling as well as just plain dangerous.

Gene looked away. Staring at the ceiling helped him to think.

"So how are we going to go about this?" he asked, "we can't exactly get Kite and What's-his-name, the colander-man to join us on a Keats-tenderising mission."

Alex shook her head slowly.

"We'll go alone," she whispered.

"How exactly are we going to…" Gene hesitated. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Despite years of letting his fists take the confession in the interview room the thought of deliberately killing a man made him feel violently sick. He took another gulp of blessed intoxicating liquid and told himself he wasn't killing a man, he was killing a monster.

Alex shook her head.

"I don't know," she whispered, "Gene, I have no idea."

Gene pulled out his gun and turned it over and over in his hands.

"It might happen in self defence," he said.

Alex thought it over. She nodded slowly, thinking about what he'd said, then closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I can't even think about this," she whispered, "besides, if we do, it's pre-meditated. If it just happens…"

Gene sighed.

"Gotcha," he nodded.

Alex finished her coffee. She got to her feet slowly and tested out her balance. She felt a little weak and shaky but felt pretty much back to her old self.

"I think," she whispered, "that we should go downstairs. Just to check the nitrous oxide has been removed. It would be awful if Keats was laying there in a barely conscious, intoxicated stupor. Wouldn't it?"

Gene nodded. He stood up and tucked both his gun and his flask safely away.

"It would be a crying shame," he said. He held out his hand. "Come on, Bolly. I'll hold you steady."

Alex opened her mouth to argue that she didn't need a hand but Gene's gloved fingers enticed her. She felt safe as his hand closed around hers. The anticipation and fear were building inside her but she knew whatever happened next they would be facing it together. That provided all the strength she needed.

* * *

The door was ajar and the room dark when Alex and Gene arrived back to room 23. They peered inside gingerly. Neither was actually expecting Keats to still be there but they couldn't be sure either way. Neither could even say for sure whether they actually wanted him to be there or not.

"It looks empty," Alex whispered.

"Try switching on the light, you dozy cow," Gene suggested.

Alex rolled her eyes and flicked the switch. She remembered flicking it just an hour or so ago. The light had revealed the man she'd least expected to see back then. Now… now she wasn't sure what or who she was going to find.

The lights flickered. They made a fluttering nose as they thought about switching on. The, with a final _plip_, the room was bathed in light.

"Empty," breathed Alex with relief.

Gene marched in.

"We'll turn the room upside down," he said, "there's got to be something here, something to tell us where that snake's gone."

They began to search the room which was made up mostly of lockers and filing cabinets with three desks accompanying them. Alex crossed to one of the desks. She realised it had a strange sense of familiarity then gasped as the reality dawned on her. She clasped her hand firmly over her mouth and stumbled a little.

"What's the matter, Bols?"

Alex trembled.

"My desk," she whispered, "he's set up my desk. Look," she pointed, "my pot-plant, my stapler, even my notebook. He must have gone through my box and set everything out for me."

"Maybe you should hire him as a housekeeper," Gene commented sarcastically. He opened a locker and peered inside but it was empty. "There'd better be something in one of these," he said, "if I go through fifty lockers and they're all empty then Gene Hunt is not going to be impressed."

"What are you looking for? A couple of dirty magazines?" asked Alex.

"More like some dirt on Keats," said Gene.

Alex tiptoed nervously to the next desk. It was fairly generic, just some pens and pencils and an empty in-tray.

"I guess this was for some other _lucky_ new recruit," she commented.

"Poor sod," said Gene, opening another locker from which a job-lot of staples fell out, _"Shit!"_

Alex walked to the third and final desk. She lifted a name block, turned it over in her hands and swallowed hard as she read the inscription. _"DCI Jim Keats,"_ it said.

"He's moved in here," she whispered.

Gene glanced around.

"What d'you mean?"

"From the basement," Alex placed the block back on the desk, "he's got himself set up here."

"Then he'll probably be back," said Gene.

That's when the voice came from behind them;

"_You're right, Hunt."_

With thumping hearts, Alex and Gene turned to the doorway. They'd both heard his voice but still dreaded seeing his face.

"Jimbo," Gene cracked his knuckles, "fancy seeing you here."

A muffled cry came from somewhere beside Keats. His arms were just out of view, as though gripping a wounded, crying animal.

"This is my new office," he smiled, "do you like it?"

"It's over, Keats," Alex said boldly, stepping forward as Gene took out his gun.

"What are you doing?" Keats asked, his smile announcing his state of denial.

"It's time to put the sick dog down," said Gene. He prepared to aim but Keats shook his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said.

"Of course you wouldn't," said Gene, "stupid thing to say."

Keats raised an eyebrow. He'd had enough of Gene's sarcasm.

"I think _Alex_ might want you to wait for a moment," he said.

Alex bristled.

"And why would that be?" she demanded.

Keats gave a smug smirk. He waited just a second, savouring the moment a little longer, before he pulled the wounded animal into plain sight in the doorway.

Alex clutched her hands to her mouth. Her legs gave way beneath her as she watched the young girl struggling in Keats' grasp. Her school uniform was crumpled and torn, her hair matted across her face. The terror in her eyes stung Alex down to the core of her heart and hot tears fell from her red, raw eyes.

"_My Molly," _Alex gasped.

Keats smiled broadly.

"I told you it was worth waiting for," he said.


	25. Chapter 25: Impossible Illusions

**Chapter 25**

With one hand over her mouth, Keats pushed Molly a little further into the room.

"My baby girl," Alex whispered, her eyes glistening with tears, "Molly, sweetheart, what has he _done_ to you?"

"You don't need to worry about that," said Keats, "she's been well looked after."

"What kind of bastard trick is this?" Gene narrowed his eyes at Keats.

"No trick," Keats said innocently.

"But _how…" _Alex whispered, "how is this possible?"

She took a step forward, a second away from launching herself at Molly with a warm embrace, but Keats held up a hand to halt her.

"Stay where you are," he said.

"_Mummy,"_ Molly cried, her mouth finally free, "is it really _you?"_

Alex's heart melted into a pool of hope and love at the sound of her daughter's voice.

"_Yes," _she gasped, "yes darling, it's _me."_

Gene shook his head.

"Don't listen to him, Bols," he growled.

Alex stared at Keats.

"How?" she whispered again, "how is this possible? Why is she here?"

"She was dead before you were, Alex," said Keats.

Alex's heart dropped like a lead balloon.

"_What?"_

"Do you remember a gunshot?" Keats asked.

"What, _when?" _Alex couldn't think straight.

"Arthur Layton," Keats continued, "he took your precious little girl. Do you remember? And then there was a gunshot. And you ran…"

"And Molly ran back out from under…" Alex trailed off.

"Are you absolutely sure that's how things happened?" Keats asked.

"I… _Yes, _yes I am, Alex shook her head to dispel the doubts, "and then Evan took her home and I got in my car."

"Molly died," said Keats, "under the pier."

"No," Alex shook her head furiously, "Evan took her… he's taking care of her…"

"Mummy, he shot me," Molly's eyes were full of tears.

"No… no, Molly, _no_…"

"You got straight into your car to trail Layton," Keats told her, "you were like a crazy woman, but unfortunately for you he was a crazy _man_ and he was already behind you, on the backseat."

"Yes, yes, and I got shot," Alex dismissed, "I have played this through a thousand times in my mind, I _know_ what happened…"

"You _forgot, _Mummy," Molly said quietly, "you _had_ to forget."

"Bolly, it's a _lie_," Gene told her, "don't listen to Keats. He's making you see what you want to see but it's just an illusion."

"I'm not listening to Keats," whispered Alex, "I'm listening to my daughter."

"You blocked it out," Keats explained, "when you came here the memory was too fresh, too painful, you completely blocked it from your memory. You couldn't cope knowing what had happened so your mind made up a new scenario. You were in a world that was all _about_ putting your demons to rest so it didn't matter."

"Mummy, I've been waiting here for you," Molly said quietly.

"It's not true," said Gene.

"I told you I could take you to Molly," said Keats, "I gave you her scarf to prove it, but you didn't believe me you believed _him._ And where did it get you? Hmm? Back in limbo with no prospects, refusing to move on because you've fallen under the spell of some macho dinosaur."

"Gene is a _man,"_ Alex spat, "which is more than you'll ever be."

"I thought I proved my manhood to you earlier," said Keats.

Gene frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"Getting people under the influence of nitrous oxide gives him a boner aparently," spat Alex. She paused. "Wait a minute… this room was _full_ of laughing gas. Why weren't you affected?"

"There was no laughing gas, Alex," sighed Keats, "you're just using it as an excuse for your behaviour."

"What behaviour?" Scowled Gene.

"Nothing," Alex flushed, "it made me dizzy. I felt drunk."

"Tell him the rest" smiled Keats.

"There's nothing else to tell!" cried Alex, "I did _nothing._"

"You were waiting for me to kiss you," Keats breathed, savouring the delicious memory, "your eyes were closed, your lips were just waiting for me."

Alex saw Gene's eyes widen. A chronic case of guilt overtook her.

"I… did… _nothing," _she hissed again, "I was woozy, I couldn't think or act, I was sitting in a stupor. I was in no state to either kiss or to _fight off _a kiss. I couldn't do a thing."

Gene looked at Alex, He saw her face full of confusion and sorrow. He looked to Keats and saw the most smug, slimy expression he'd ever witnessed. He thought carefully for a while before drawing in a deep breath.

"If the only way," he began, "that you can keep a girl still long enough to kiss them is to gas them with the funny stuff first then I'm guessing _Little Jimbo _doesn't get to see a lot of action. You must need cyanide to do the trick when he wants to go for a walk in the pink park."

"Ironic you should say that since you've _shacked up_ with a dead woman," Keats sneered.

Alex stared at Molly, the daughter she'd fought so hard to get back to. A part of her wanted to run to her, tear her from Keats' grasp, take her far away and hug her tightly. But something was stopping her.

"That scarf," she whispered. She looked Keats right in the eye. "When I walked into the Railway Arms, it vanished."

Keats froze.

"What?"

"It vanished," Alex repeated, "it wasn't real. It just disappeared slowly until there was nothing left in my hands."

Keats gave a nervous cough.

"Maybe you can't take material possessions into _heaven_," he said the word mockingly.

"If you couldn't then we'd all have been naked," said Alex. She flinched at the thought of a naked Ray propping up the bar. "It wasn't real. The scarf wasn't real."

"Look at Molly" said Keats, "look at her! Are you trying to tell me her tears aren't real?"

He shook her a little and her face crumbled into proper sobs. Alex's own eyes spilled over as she watched.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Molly, but… you're… not… real. It's not you."

"Mummy, don't say that!" wept Molly.

Alex shook her head.

"I heard you by my bedside," Alex whispered, "talking to me in hospital. I saw your bag beside me in my room when I died. How would it get there if you weren't there too?" she choked back tears. She had to focus on the fact that Molly wasn't real. "You're not really here, Molly. And as much as I love you… and I desperately, desperately want to see you again…" she shook her head "this isn't the time. Because you're not really here. And maybe one day you'll decide to follow in my footsteps and join the force… and maybe one day there'll be an Arthur Layton who'll send you to this place… and when that happens I'll be waiting, with open arms. But _this_… this isn't you."

Molly's form began to flicker. Like interference on a TV screen it seemed to break down and look a little fuzzy. Keats looked desperately at Alex.

"What more do you want, Alex?" he demanded, "I've brought you Molly! Does it matter whether she's real or not? I'm giving you your daughter back!"

Alex shook her head.

"No you're not," she whispered, "you're giving me an impossible illusion. I don't want to spend any more time pursuing a life that isn't real. I have my role here. I know what that is. My heart breaks every day when I think about my little girl," she began to choke up, "but this is _not_ my little girl."

Molly began to fade.

"Mummy, _please…"_ she whispered.

Alex's tears began to fall hard and fast.

" I'm sorry, Molly" she whispered. As the illusion of her daughter faded to thin air she blew her the gentlest kiss and hoped inside that, somehow, her daughter might really catch it.

Keats glared at gene and Alex, his anger boiling over. Alex feared he was reaching the hissing, spitting stage again.

"Give it up, Keats," Gene stepped forward, "it's over."

"I don't know what more I can do for you!" Keats screamed at Alex, "I showed you lover-boy was just a corpse in a field but you still want to bounce on his dead wood! I give you a promotion and a whole department to run, and you want to stay in CID. I bring you back your _daughter_ and just because she's not… _quite… _the authentic one you knock me back!"

"You're mad, Keats," Alex hissed, "all you've done if offer me some kind of freak show."

"Why is Alex so important to you, anyway?" Gene demanded, "why are you so desperate to get her onside? Just want to get in her knickers or is it more than that?"

Keats leaned threateningly close to Gene.

"She's your lynchpin," he hissed.

"Can we _not_ talk about construction?"

"She's holding you up" said Keats, "without her your world will start falling apart."

"I can hold me own world up very well, thank you," said Gene.

"That's why I was moved out of CID," whispered Alex.

"And you'd have gotten away with it if it wasn't for those pesky kids," Gene took his gloves off slowly and dropped them onto Keats' desk.

"Your world is still falling apart," Keats told him, "I was just speeding up the process."

Gene shook his head.

"My world's stronger than ever," he said, "the sheriff has got a deputy now. It's _your _world that's fallen apart."

"You're wrong."

"Oh am I?" cried Gene, "shall we see how rock-solid the ground you walk on is?" He grasped Keats' typewriter and lifted it up in the air.

"What are you doing?" cried Keats, scared for the safety of his precious typewriter.

"Just repaying the favour," hissed Gene, and with one swift, hard action brought the typewriter crashing down to the floor.

Keats' domain began to smoulder.


	26. Chapter 26: A Passing and a Ticking

**Chapter 26**

The ground seemed to shake and the walls trembled like a cowardly jelly. Above them the ceiling faded away and in its place smoke and flame filled the space.

"_Shit!"_ cried Alex, "we're on fire!"

"No we're not," said Gene. He wrapped a protective arm around her. "It's just Mister Keats here who 's burning for eternity."

"Thanks a lot," spat Keats, "I mean, thanks a fucking bunch!" Do you know how difficult it is to get smoke damage off these walls?"

"What _is_ this?" Alex gasped.

"This is what lays behind Jimbo's office," said Gene, "if he can make out CID isn't real just by turning our ceiling into a planetarium then I thought it was about time we saw what his own walls were hiding."

Keats' face contorted in something between fury and desperation. He looked around at his crumbling empire and broken façade then back at Gene and Alex with the hatred they were not bothering to conceal toward him.

"It's not over," he spat, "it's _never_ over."

He spun around and ran as fast as he could out of the office, his feet pounding against the floor, right past Susannah who was running in the opposite direction down the corridor.

"I can smell burning…" she cried, clutching a fire extinguisher and skidding to a halt in front of the ceiling inferno. _"Woah…" _she swallowed. "I'm going to need a bigger one of these…"

Alex and Gene barely noticed she had entered as they raced out on the trail of Keats. They followed the far glimpse of his coat disappearing down the corridor, round the corner, up one flight of stairs, down another, through the foyer and finally out of the main doors, into the car park.

He'd been accelerating at such a speed he couldn't slow down and he found his legs pounding quickly past the car park and into the road beyond where an oncoming Jeep had no time to swerve and avoid him. Its impact with Keats was hard and his body was tossed through the air like a rag doll. He landed with a thump at the side of the road.

Alex and Gene skidded to a halt beside him, followed a moment later by Susannah. They arrived just in time to hear one or two of his ribs crack in the landing. A small amount of blood was beginning to trickle from his ear.

For a moment there was absolute silence. Neither Alex nor Gene remembered to breathe as they watched and waited to see if he moved. They looked for a blink, a cough, a splutter - any sign of life at all but Keats remained stone still.

Susannah stared past them. She looked at the motionless Keats laying in the curb.

"Oh my good God," she gasped. She looked from Gene to Alex. "For goodness sake, someone call an ambulance!" She began to run towards him, crying; _"It's OK! I know first aid!"_.

"No! Susannah, wait!" cried Alex. She reached forward to grab her but missed by inches and Susannah reached his body unhindered. She knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse. It was still there, weak and failing but there none the less, so she cocked her head to see if he was breathing.

"_I'm not dead yet," _a very dark voice hissed into her ear.

Before Susannah could do much beyond glancing at Keats he reached out and gripper her face in his hands. His grasp was so tight that his nails began to sink into her skin. She began to scream in terror and in pain and her eyes bolted.

"_H-help me," _she gasped almost inaudibly.

Keats' hands began to shake as he gripped her. Despite his injuries his hold was firm.

"I'm not dead yet," he repeated, "you're taking my place."

"N-no," Susannah whispered.

"Yes," whispered Keats, desperately trying to turn her over and force her to the ground. He closed his eyes, feeling the life-force running through Susannah. He yearned for that life. His own was fading, failing. He was hungry for more. "Shh," he whispered, "just let go."

The warmth flowed from Susannah into his hands, up through his arms and through his body. Her soul tasted so sweet. He wanted to feast on it forever, to continue the banquet of life he was indulging in right there and then. He breathed in deeply, the pain in his chest beginning to subside.

There was a click. A click, and something hard and cold pressed into the side of his head. He stopped and froze, then very slowly he opened his eyes.

Beside him knelt Gene, a gun in his hand, pressed against Keats' temple. Keats smiled. He looked Gene in the eye.

"I've seen inside you, Hunt," he hissed, "your finger will never pull that trigger. You can't do it."

Gene took a deep breath.

"I've seen inside you, too," he said quietly, "whatever you used to be, there's nothing human left now."

Keats looked at Susannah's face, still between his hands. She was shaking, her face a picture of terror and her life, love and soul disappearing from her body.

"Goodbye, Susannah," he whispered.

"Goodbye Jim," Gene countered. With only the briefest moment of hesitation he tightened his finger around the trigger and squeezed it; sent the bullet flying into the head of a madman, scattered his blood and ended whatever passed for his life.

As his grasp on Susannah faded she stumbled and fell to the ground, her body weak and drained and her heart a beat away from giving up. The marks around her face showed where Keats' grip on her had tightened to an almost impossible degree. Blood from Keats' wound covered her face and chest and her eyes closed in exhaustion.

Gene froze on the spot, his gun still held out before him. He looked at the wound on Keats' head. He saw an echo of a young copper in his mind. The irony was not lost on him.

"Perhaps," he whispered, "this is how it was supposed to end."

Alex felt quite unable to move for a few moments. The scene was one of horror; blood and bodies, guns and gruesome wounds. Finally she pulled herself out of the state of shock she'd entered and ran to Susannah. She hauled her upright and held her in her lap, leaning her against her own chest.

"Susannah," she hissed, shaking her a little. Susannah murmured, her breathing slowly returning to normal and her eyes fluttering open. "Susannah, you're OK… you're OK now…"

She held Susannah's head to her chest as the DC began to cry with shock and fear, then looked at Gene.

"Are you alright?" she whispered.

Gene swallowed. He stared at Keats' body.

"We all are, Bolly," he whispered, "at least… we will be now."

Alex nodded slowly. She stared at Keats as she heard the footsteps of many officers running to the scene and an ambulance arriving from somewhere in the distance. Maybe Keats had been human at some time. Perhaps he'd been an ordinary copper who'd died just as she had. Maybe something happened and something overtook his humanity. But whoever Jim Keats used to be she felt pretty sure there wasn't enough of him left to justify leaving his dangerous nature in the world.

Gene dropped his gun and slowly backed away as Alex gently encouraged Susannah to sit up by herself and got to her feet. She walked over to Gene, put her arms around him and closed her eyes.

"It's over," she whispered.

The ambulance pulled up beside them and the crew started to get out. Alex heard one of them mutter something along the lines of, _"this is where they have the disappearing corpses," _and another one say, _"if we end up in the funny farm after this I'm suing!"_

She looked back at Keats. To her dismay the blood from his wound was beginning to fade. As she watched, the wound on his head began to lessen and close.

"Gene," he hissed urgently, nudging him in his ribs and pointing.

Gene turned to see what she was talking about. He gave an audible gasp as Keats' face began to put itself back together and finally the bullet hole closed up.

"Oh for…" he threw his hands in the air, "you're not telling me he's invincible!"

Alex stared at Keats. Just because his wound disappeared didn't mean he became any the less deceased.

"No," she whispered, holding him tightly, "I think… I think _you_ are." she looked at him seriously. "I think… I think you killed the devil." she turned back to see the crew swarming around the dead man, "…and the car killed Jim Keats. Or whatever Keats used to be." She bit her lip nervously. "No wound, Gene. No bullet. No repercussions. No suspension, no trial, no prison sentence." She looked seriously at Gene. "You're too important. You're needed here."

Gene looked down at Alex in his arms.

"Are you sure you're not ready to go to the pub?" he asked.

Alex gave a tiny laugh.

"You are needed _here,_" she reiterated, "and since you need me… I guess I'm needed too."

"Who says I need you?" Gene asked gruffly.

"That look," smiled Alex.

As she glanced at the ambulance crew she began to feel a little strange. She couldn't explain it. There was a tingling sensation that started in her arm and worked its way through to her chest, then to every inch of her body. She pulled away from Gene and stared at her arms.

"What are you doing, Drake?" frowned Gene, "checking to see if you've grown wings?"

"N-no, I feel funny…" Alex began quietly but trailed off at the strange sensation of her clothes being ripped apart. She felt naked suddenly and clutched her hand to her chest to cover her breasts but found to her surprise she was still fully clothed. "What the hell is going…" she began as she had the strangest feeling of something cold and pliable being slapped onto her chest. She looked down, frowning, then looked at Gene in confusion. "Something's going on," she declared.

"I think you spent too long in the room with that laughing gas," he told her.

"No, Gene, I'm serious," Alex said crossly, "It felt…" she trailed off as she glanced at the ambulance crew attempting to revive Keats and frowned. "Did they _have_ portable defibrillators in the eighties?"

No sooner had she asked the question she heard a loud voice boom,

"_Clear," _ inside her head.

A split second later a deafening hum of electricity stunned her senses and forced her eyes to close. Before she knew what was happening a massive force shot through her chest and her body sailed into the air by at least three feet or so. She crashed back to the ground, the landing bruising her bottom and the shock causing fear and nausea to rise through her. She blinked, shook her head and looked for Gene but just for a moment she seemed to loose the power of sight.

"_Charging," _she heard a voice that seemed to come from inside her head.

"_Clear."_

A second massive bolt of electricity shot through her chest and threw her into the air again. This time she screamed. She screamed out for help, but the world around her seemed to disappear into darkness. She heard muffled voices as she came back down to earth with a thump once again, then the deafening sound of electricity. She clutched her chest, knowing what was coming next.

"_Nooooooooooooo!"_ she cried, "Please, I can't _take _any more!"

A third, stronger bolt of electricity came from nowhere, illuminating her chest with power. The scream that came forth from her throat was so loud that it deafened her and rang in her ears. Her body was tossed into the air with the same kind of force that Keats had been struck by the Jeep.

The third time she hit the ground she heard a beep. Then another one. A third followed.

A dizziness overcame her and she blacked out on the cold, hard pavement. Just before she did, she heard one more voice, fading into the distance. She couldn't be certain but she could have sworn it said; _"We've got her… she's back…_"

* * *

There was a pain in her bum.

That was the first thing she noticed.

She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids felt very heavy.

"She's waking up," a familiar voice said.

"I _told_ you I knew first aid," another chimed in.

"You gonna open those mice pies, Bolly?"

The third voice was the most recognisable and the one Alex wanted to hear. Slowly she opened her eyes and tried to focus. The bright lights of the CID ceiling were making it difficult to see very much and the fact that Malcolm was looking conspicuous, wafting smelling salts around made her cough a little.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," Alex murmured, "help me up."

She held up her arms and Susannah and Malcolm took one each to help her into an upright position.

"Are you OK, Ma'am?" Susannah asked.

Alex flinched.

"My, erm," she blushed, "I feel a bit bruised…"

"You landed on your coccyx," said Susannah.

"Oh yeah?" Gene raised an eyebrow, "I've got something I can put on that for you later…"

Alex rubbed her head, then her chest. She looked down. Everything seemed normal now. No electricity, no shocks, nothing.

"I, uh… I felt something slap me… on my chest," she said quietly.

Once again, Gene's interest increased.

"That's something else I can help you out with…" he said.

Alex shook her head.

"No, no," she whispered, "…then there was this electricity."

"There was a faulty circuit," Susannah told her, "electrified the manhole cover you were standing on. Car park lights or something. You got quite a shock."

"We should have sent her off in that ambulance," Malcolm piped up.

"Oi!" Susannah looked annoyed, "I told you, I know…"

"We _know!" _cried Malcolm.

"She was pretty good at giving you the kiss of life," Gene said, impressed, filing the memory away for future reference.

"How long was I out?" Alex whispered, her throat dry.

"About five… maybe six minutes," said Susannah.

Gene knelt down beside her and handed her a glass.

"Drink this, Bolly," he said, placing one hand gently on her back.

Alex took the glass. She seemed to be drinking more of his whiskey than _he_ was these days.

"Thanks," she whispered with a tiny smile.

"Water, Guv!" cried Susannah, "she should be drinking water or hot sweet tea."

"This is the Gene Genie's emergency revival procedure," Gene told her. "Step one, a generous measure of spirits. Step two, if that doesn't work, head between yer legs."

"That's not a proper first-aid procedure," Susannah admonished.

Alex sipped the warming liquid and gave a slight nod. It was certainly more agreeable than sweet tea, she thought. A sudden thought struck her and she turned to Gene in a panic.

"Keats," she cried, "they didn't… I mean, they _couldn't_ revive him… could they?"

Gene shook his head.

"No, Alex," he said quietly, "Keats did not respond to resuscitation. Time of death, three fourty-seven pm. A sad loss to society."

Alex nodded slowly and exhaled in relief.

"It's really over," she whispered.

Gene swiped her glass and took a swig himself.

"Until the next Jim Keats arrives," he sighed.

"_If_ he does," Alex took the glass back, "we'll be ready for him."

She downed the rest of the whiskey. It no longer stung her throat, just warmed it. Gene took the glass and got to his feet.

"I'll get you another one," he said.

"Thank you," Alex smiled tiredly. She watched the usual swagger of her Gene heading to his office to find the bottle and glanced around the familiar space. She smiled as she spotted what she thought might be a spark between Susannah and Malcolm, despite the fact that they were squabbling over the correct amount of sugars to put in the tea of a shock victim. Susannah glanced over and saw her smiling.

"You OK, Ma'am?" she asked.

Alex's smile broadened a little.

"I was just thinking how glad I am you both joined the team," she said honestly, raising a smile from her colleagues.

"Thanks, ma'am," Malcolm nodded slightly.

"Do you want anything else?" asked Susannah, "tea? Blankets?"

Alex shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said, "listen, why don't you two go home? It's been a heavy few days. You deserve the rest of the day off."

"Really?" asked Susannah, "thanks!"

"That sounds good to me," sighed Malcolm.

Alex watched them gather up their things and head off as Gene returned with two glasses this time.

"Bye, Ma'am," they chorused, "Bye, Sir."

Alex gave a little wave as they left. Before the door closed behind them she thought she heard Malcolm say, _"Do you want to… maybe… I don't know… Go somewhere?"_

"Don't tell me they're shagging already," said Gene, "they've only been here two minutes."

"Not yet," smiled Alex, "but I doubt it will be too long."

Gene held out her glass.

"Get this down you," he said, "then I'll take you home and rub some liniment on yer bum."

"That's the most romantic gesture I think I've ever heard," sighed Alex. She reached out to take the glass but something caught her eye. She froze for a moment, then grasped Gene's wrist instead. "Oh my _God…"_

"What? I didn't give you half measures, you know," said Gene.

"No, no, your watch," she whispered. She pulled his wrist closer to her head, ignoring the whiskey that spilt onto her shoulder. She closed her eyes at the sound, the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. "It's _ticking."_

"Should bloody hope so, this cost me a fortune," scowled Gene, shaking the watch by his ear just to check.

"Gene, it's _ticking,"_ Alex gasped. A smile began to spread across her face before she could stop it. "It's ticking, the hands are going round…" she grabbed his wrist again.

"You're wasting good scotch!" Gene protested as more spilled.

Alex watched the hands go round. It was almost four o'clock.

"Not nine-o-six," she whispered. She turned to Gene. "I'm _alive."_

Gene thought he'd misheard.

"What?"

"_I'm alive, _Gene! I'm… breathing, my heart's beating.

"_Bolly…"_

"I don't know how but something happened when we were outside. It felt like… like I was being resuscitated. They were shocking my chest."

"But… but you were dead, Bols," Gene held up his hand, shocked and confused, "you'd passed. I thought you were here forever… it's been so _long…"_

"The only law here," Alex echoed his previous words, "is the one you use to keep scum off the streets," she started to shake again. "Time… time is immeasurable. God, Gene, they brought me _back."_

Gene stared at Alex. He tried to think of a word to describe how he felt about the revelation but the only word he could think of was 'flabbergasted', and 'flabbergasted' was not a very Gene Hunt kind of a word.

"Bolly… outside the Railway Arms," he began, "that night… I swear to you, you were dead. I would never, _ever_ for a moment have told you to go if I'd known."

Alex nodded.

"I know," she whispered.

"Keats," Gene hated even saying the name, let alone think about the implications, "he had a powerful hold here. A powerful hold on you."

"Are you saying he could have been stopping the attempts at resuscitating me?" Alex whispered.

Gene shrugged.

"Would you put it past him?"

Alex thought for a moment. She didn't know how he would go about doing such a thing but then again she didn't know how he'd gotten the scarf or made Molly appear or give Simon a tape of Gene becoming violent.

"No," she said eventually, "I wouldn't." She shook her head slowly. "But why would Keats want to keep me here?"

"So he could take you for his own bastard reasons," Gene guessed.

Alex was still shaking. She couldn't take it in. She picked up her glass and downed what was left of her drink.

"I wish I hadn't spilt so much of it now," she sighed.

Gene looked at her seriously.

"I know what this means, Bols."

"I need more whiskey?"

Gene shook his head.

"You'll keep fighting to get back to your daughter. And, Alex, That's the way it should be." He saw Alex glance down. "I'll never try to steal you from Molly. When the day comes that you have to go, I'll understand." he paused. "But until then, I need you. I need you on my team. I need you by my side. I need you in other ways too."

Alex gave Gene a genuine smile. She reached out and touched his face.

"I need you too," she whispered.

"I don't know what happened today," Gene continued, "but I am so happy for you, that you have another shot at life. Fight for it, girl."

Alex could feel tears welling in her eyes.

"You know I'll fight all the way," she whispered.

She reached out and took Gene in her arms with a wide, warm embrace. She needed to feel his heart beating against hers and to feel his warm breath on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, a warm happiness washing over her. She had another chance to get home to Molly, and she had Gene in her life. She knew there would be a difficult choice ahead, but the way time worked she could be with Gene for years and still wake before Molly's next birthday.

She thought about what had happened in the last few days. She thought about Simon and how she helped him home. Would she still be able to help others pass now that her heart was beating and her watch was ticking? She wasn't sure. Could that be the reason her heart stopped, she wondered. Was she Simon's guardian angel somehow?

She sighed deeply as she hugged Gene tighter. There would always be unanswered questions but she knew two things; one, that she was alive and two, that she loved Gene with all her heart. The rest of the gaps? Well, they would be filled in over time, of that she was sure.

"_Her heart stopped for several minutes,"_ the voice echoed in the pack of Alex's mind, _"there was a malfunction with her life support equipment and it wasn't picked up for some time. But we got your mother back. She's stable now. We don't know if there will be any long-term effects but she is a real fighter, and we're doing everything we can to bring her back to you."_

Alex hugged Gene even more tightly when she thought about Molly hearing that her heart was still beating.

_I'll be home one day, Molly, _she said silently, _until then… I'm already home, right where I am._

**~ * Epilogue Up Tomorrow * ~  
**


	27. Epilogue: Side by Side

**Epilogue**

Alex was weaving a little by the time Gene drove her home. She'd had a little too much of his scotch and not very much to eat. She climbed unsteadily from the Mercedes and fumbled for her key. It slipped into the lock more easily than she'd been expecting, considering her slightly inebriated state, and she turned it quickly.

"You are coming up, aren't you?" she asked.

"Do I look like a man who's going to kiss you on the doorstep and drive off into the sunset?" asked Gene.

Alex smiled and beckoned him inside.

"Well come on then," she said.

Gene followed her up the stairs and to the door of her flat.

"I won't be checking in the toilet pan tonight," he commented, "I think it's safe to assume we're Keats-free."

Alex smiled warmly at Gene. They entered the lounge and both gave a smirk as they spotted the couch they'd christened the night before.

"Do you think you can make a second exception for my girly couch tonight?" Alex asked.

"Did I waste my time drawing those diagrams?" Gene asked, "we're doing it in the Merc, no debate."

"The state of my bloody bum right now, I am _not_ doing it on the Merc!" cried Alex, rubbing her sore posterior.

"Come here," Gene beckoned her, "let me see if you've got a bruise."

"I'm not showing you until you promise we're not going anywhere near that car before the morning," Alex said firmly.

The two of them sat down side by side, Alex a little more gingerly than Gene. She leaned against him and stared at the wall.

"Funny old day," said Gene.

Alex turned to see his face, her mouth slightly open.

"'_Funny old day'?"_ she cried, "I can think of many ways to describe today, all of them more severe than that!"

Gene scratched his head.

"Keats is still in the morgue," he said, "I checked - three times. Didn't want to risk him disappearing, waking up in some… twentieth century hospital, bringing death and destruction to some time we haven't got to yet."

"I get the feeling whoever Keats used to be, he died a long time ago," Alex said quietly.

"Webber will be back in the office tomorrow," said Gene, "He says compassionate leave makes him want to headbutt his television."

"Subtle," said Alex.

"Susannah's going to have her picture in the paper," Gene continued, "for her brave attempt at administering first aid when you got a bit frazzled by the faulty wiring. And Malcolm got a slap from the woman with the fat arse who runs the canteen for nicking her colander."

"So not quite happy endings all round," Alex commented.

Gene gave a non-committal noise. He thought to himself for a moment.

"They're alright, you know Bols," he decided.

"Who?"

"Webber and Kite and whats-his-name, Colander-man," said Gene, "I think they're going to do well."

Alex smiled.

"I agree," she said.

They fell silent for a short while. It began to dawn on Gene how significant the events of the day truly were. Alex's heart was beating again somewhere back in her own time. Some day she might wake up and she would disappear from his life without so much as a goodbye. Maybe she'd go down a tunnel like Sam. Maybe she'd fall to the ground with a bullet wound like Simon. He had no way of knowing where or when it would happen. It made every moment they shared all the more precious.

"So tell me, Bolly," he sighed, "what have I got to look forward to?"

"Apart from sex in your car?" asked Alex.

"In five years time, ten years… what's so good about the future? What am I going to enjoy?"

Alex gave a little, nostalgic smile and looked to the ceiling as she thought.

"Ooh," she began, "I'm not really sure. Define 'enjoy'."

"Anything that doesn't make me want to insert my arm up my own rectum in disgust and boredom," said Gene.

Alex scratched her chin.

"Well, there's the Berlin Wall coming down," she began, "multi-channel satellite TV, then there's Britpop…"

"Some kind of lemonade?" frowned Gene.

"No, no," Alex shook her head, "it's a musical movement. Pulp, Blur…"

"You feeling sick, Bols?" frowned Gene.

Alex sighed.

"They're _bands,_" she explained, "then there's the Millennium. That's a whole bloody anti-climax."

"I'll have you know I have _never_ had that problem!" Gene cried indignantly.

"No, an _anti-_climax!" cried Alex. She rubbed her forehead. "It's the turn of the century. Someone thinks it's a good idea for us to sit and watch everyone else's new year so we're really bloody bored of it by the time it gets to midnight here. Then there's a wheel that doesn't go round yet, a bridge no one can walk across yet and a Dome that… well, no one cares about." she paused. "Oh, and there's a solar eclipse."

"When's that?"

"Nineteen ninety-nine," said Alex, "it's a bit boring really… it just goes a bit dark… but at least it stops everyone talking about the millennium for a couple of weeks."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of all this," said Gene.

Alex smiled.

"You'll be fine," she said.

"You gonna be here to help me?" asked Gene.

Alex sat up straight and took his hand.

"I don't know," she said honestly, "I can't say for sure how long I will be here, you know that." she squeezed his hand, "but for as long as I am, I'll be by your side, Gene Hunt. I'll be right by your side."

Gene looked into Alex's eyes and could see she meant every word. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head gently.

"We'll be alright, Bolly," he said.

Alex closed her eyes and leaned against him.

"Yeah," she sighed happily, "we will."

Gene held her close and savoured the smell of her hair. He felt her warm breath against him and felt whole, happy and very much alive. Finally he drew back a little and looked at her seriously.

"Now, Bolly Knickers," he began seriously, "I think it's time."

Alex hesitated.

"Time for what?"

Gene stood up.

"I'll get the Liniment, you get your backside out," he said.

* * *

The pain in his head was incredible. It ached, it throbbed, it pulsed. It seemed like a mammoth task to open up his heavy eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what would greet them if he did.

He heard a voice in the background. It was a vague, mumbling voice that he couldn't quite identify but it sounded vaguely familiar. Gradually his ears adjusted to the sound and the voice became clearer.

"…_I swear on my life, that guinea pig eats more than I do! I had no idea how much…"_

A blink.

He blinked once.

There was some music playing in the background somewhere, it was something he had on his iPhone, he was sure. David Bowie, _Absolute Beginners._

_Blink._

The room was bright and the light stung his eyes but he gave it another go.

_Blink_.

"…_Hey…? HEY! You blinked! You did… you blinked! I saw you!… Come on, open your eyes!"_

He tried. Really he tried, but the light made it so hard.

"…_Come on… come on, you can do it. Come on, I saw you blink…"_

He tried again. He slowly opened those heavy eyelids. They fought hard to close again but he wouldn't let them win.

The room was spinning a little. It was clinical and white, so cold and unfeeling, but as a smile swam into focus his heart missed a beat.

_Robin!_

He tried to move his lips, to whisper his name, but no sound emerged.

"…_Simon? SIMON! You MADE it! Oh man…"_

The smile jumped to its feet along with the rest of Robin and ran from the room momentarily.

"_Hey! HEY! Nurse! Someone! He's awake… he's AWAKE!"_

A moment later, as Simon fought with his eyelids who still wanted to shut again, Robin raced back in accompanied by a nurse and one of his sisters.

"_Simon!" _she cried, _"Oh my God, you really are! You're awake! Oh, thank God!"_

"_OK, can you just stand back for a minute? I need to check him," _the nurse filled his field of vision, "_Hello, Simon? Can you hear me? I'm Nurse Tamper. I'm just going to check you over, lovie, OK?"_

Simon could do nothing but lay back and let the nurse check him over while he listen to the ones he loved so dearly cry and cheer in happiness. He felt so tired and every movement of his eyes or his lips felt like the biggest effort, but he knew this was going to take time. He was in no hurry.

He was home. _Home! _His ordeal was over and somehow he had made it back. He remembered flashes of a man in a long, dark coat; a video tape, a kindly woman who tried to protect him from a cruel decade and a mobile phone the size of a small house extension.

He closed his eyes again as the effort of opening his eyes grew too much and drifted into a natural, pure and normal sleep. He would sleep a lot, for many weeks, but every time he opened his eyes again he knew he would be in 2010.

Someone helped him back. Someone who would never know how much he had to thank her for. He remembered the bright eyes and warm smile of the woman who sent him on his way.

_Thank you, Alex,_ he said silently before he drifted away for a dreamless nap.

* * *

The young girl peered around the door of the room and frowned. She saw a man and a woman jumping around excitedly, crying, "_he's awake! He's awake!" _while a nurse checked the vital signs of a man whose eyes were closing.

With a roll of her eyes she left the room and slipped back into the room next door. She sat down beside the bed, pulled a magazine into her lap and sighed.

"Sorry, Mum," she said, "it's some guy in the room next door who's woken up. I think his family are in there but they're getting a bit too excited. I wish they'd think about the other people here. Not everyone's waking up." She leaned closer to her mother and smiled with real excitement. "But you'll be next, I_ know _you will. The doctors say your responses have finally started getting stronger. I know you can do it, mummy. Any day now you'll open your eyes, and I'm going to be here when you do." she paused. "And when you do, I'll try not to shout too loudly… but I can't make any promises." She leaned back and opened up her magazine. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, the eighties are coming back this season. I bet you've got some wicked clothes in the back of your wardrobe from when you were my age. Maybe I can borrow them? Just one or two. don't worry about it for now, Mum, we'll talk about this when you wake up…"

As Molly read to her mother, just as she had every evening for the last two years, she finally felt a strong sense that her mother would return to her soon. She'd missed her last birthday and she'd never been able to help her blow out the candles the year before that, but this year - who knows? - she just might make it.

**~* The End *~**

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* * *

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_**I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. In all honestly, this is the first time in a decade I've felt the same passion about writing that I used to. I used to be a total writing addict, I'd sit and write compulsively, and when writer's block hit me it was like losing a massive part of my life. I can only thank Ashes for bringing back that passion, and I really hope to continue writing. Your comments and reviews have really inpired me and helped me to know if I was on the right track.**_

_**I feel really sad this has come to an end. I became genuinely fond of all the characters that grew from out of the Window and I'm going to miss them. I'm going to write the 'deleted scene' next and then, hopefully, I'll start another fic.**_

_**Bye bye, Simon - I hope your iPhone still has some battery after Keats messed about with it!**_


End file.
